Move Along
by Kaimi Hoshi
Summary: Continued after S3.After Dean’s death, Sam is a wreck.Meanwhile, Dean escapes the pit and possess the body of a coma victim to warn Sam before a bloodthirsty creature can claim their souls. "Sammy...it's me." Angst, gore and torture.Better summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Better summary****: They couldn't break the deal. Two months after Dean's bloody death Sam is a wreck and spends every waking hour determined to find a way to bring his brother back. Meanwhile, Dean manages to escape the pit and possess the body of a coma patient as demon. Will Dean be able to find Sam and warn him before a bloodthirsty hellhound can claim both their souls first? And even as a demon, is Dean really still Dean? RATED FOR: Angst, gore, language, violence and minor torture.  
**

**This is my first Supernatural fic. Please be nice. No flames please. No, it does not contain any slash or Winsest. The next chapter will be up soon. Yes, this story is based off the song **_**Move Along **_**by **_**The All-American Rejects**_**. This song always reminds me of Supernatural for some reason.**

**NOTE: I wrote this first chapter BEFORE "No rest for the wicked" aired. This is my take on how Dean may have died.**

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_**Move Along**_

_Go ahead as you waste your days with thinking  
When you fall everyone stands  
Another day and you've had your fill of sinking  
With the life held in your  
Hands are shaking cold  
These hands are meant to hold_

_Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong  
Move along, move along like I know you do  
And even when your hope is gone  
Move along, move along just to make it through  
Move along  
Move along_

_So a day when you've lost yourself completely  
Could be a night when your life ends  
Such a heart that will lead you to deceiving  
All the pain held in your  
Hands are shaking cold  
Your hands are mine to hold_

_Speak to me, when all you got to keep is strong  
Move along, move along like I know you do  
And even when your hope is gone  
Move along, move along just to make it through  
Move along  
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)_

_When everything is wrong we move along  
(Go on, go on, go on, go on)  
When everything is wrong, we move along  
Along (along), along (along), along (along)_

_When all you got to keep is strong  
Move along, move along like I know you do  
And even when your hope is gone  
Move along, move along just to make it through_

_(Go on, go on, go on, go on)  
Right back what is wrong_

_  
__**We move along**_

Sam Winchester never dreamed that this day would actually come.

He dreamed about graduating from Stanford with Master's degree in his pocket and the bright smiling faces beaming with pride from his family, as he walked across the stage. He dreamed about getting down on one knee at a low lit dinner table as he proposed to Jessica, a stunning young blond that would leap into his arms with delight at his request. He dreamed about standing at the alter in some over-priced monkey suit grinning like an idiot and gawking dreamily at his beautiful bride flowing down the aisle. Sam had even dared to dream that maybe one day Dean would pick up something other than a hundred year old _Metallica_ cassette tape. Maybe even a CD or an Ipod. Sam had many wonderful plans and dreams that he had secretly kept quiet to himself over the years of werewolf slaying, body burning and demon exorcising. But this was something that Sam never would have dreamed of in his wildest nightmares.

This would be the day that Sam Winchester would watch his over protective, emotionally challenged, egotistical, anal retentive older brother finally be dragged down to the very deepest, darkest corners of hell.

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. Dean wasn't supposed to die such a cruel and dishonorable death. He was supposed to go out somewhere fifty years from now in the front of his 1967 Chevy Impala with _Black Sabbath_ roaring in the background as he sped away from one of his ex wives cursing him to hell. He wasn't supposed to _actually go there_. It should have been something easy like a heart attack or a stroke, heck even a bloody car wreck would have been better than this. Dean wasn't supposed to die so young and so painfully. But then again, Dean also wasn't supposed to have known how to shoot a .45 at the monster under the bed at 10 years old either. Dean's life was anything but what it was supposed to be. He wasn't supposed to have pulled his baby brother out of a flaming inferno at 4, dig up a rotting corpse from a graveyard to salt and burn the bones when he was 12, or slice the head off a bloody fanged vampire with one of his Dad's machetes when he was 16. But Dean definitely wasn't supposed to cut his life short and die for a lost cause like saving his pain- in- the- ass little brother from the pit.

Dean wasn't a saint or anything. Not even close. But he was a hell of a good brother and had practically raised Sam since birth. Sam had looked to Dean for nearly everything ever since he could remember. Dean was his role model. Dean was the kind of guy that still looked cool with half a salami sandwich stuffed in is mouth, and Sam had grown up to have a healthy respect for his older brother. Heck, he would even say that he was proud. Besides, he didn't know too many other older brother's that would attend every elementary school Christmas play, wake up at the crack of dawn so Sammy wouldn't miss his favorite episode of _Scooby Doo_, or ride his ten speed bike all the way across town in a rainstorm just so Sam wouldn't have to walk home without an umbrella. Dean was a one of a kind sibling, but still, as noble and protective as he was, he was still a true hunter at heart. And Sam didn't know how many happy endings came to hunters.

Even with the kind of life Dean had, he wasn't supposed to go out like this. It had all been a horrible miss turn of events. Dean wasn't the kind of guy to believe in all the destiny crap, but Sam did. Sort of, anyway. Enough to know that he shouldn't have even had a destiny. Technically, he wasn't even supposed to be breathing right now. He should have been rotting away in the ground with worms crawling into his eyes and devouring his corpse.

_It should have been me. _Sam never thought that those five little words could have haunted his mind for so long. Reciting those words became a daily ritual for Sam. He greeted the day knowing that he wasn't supposed to have even seen the morning sunrise. Knowing that he shouldn't even be in this world anymore. Knowing that the day loomed when Dean would burn eternally in the fiery pits of hell all for Sammy. It was all enough to relentlessly torment Sam's dark, restless mind for over a year now. Days without a decent night's sleep turned into weeks, then months, and now somehow, time had evaporated before Sam's eyes into a year. A solid 365 days had slipped away before he even had time to think. One year since the day Dean had been emotionally driven over the edge and begged for a deal with the crossroads demon. His soul, for Sam's life and a single year of grace. Dean didn't even need to hesitate. He would have traded himself in right then and there if needed be. There wasn't anything Dean wouldn't give for his baby brother. That was his job. His sole purpose for living. Without Sam, Dean wouldn't have even allowed himself to see another sunrise. Without Sam there was no reason to. Without Sam, Dean wasn't allowed to live. So he made the deal without question.

Since that day Sam had silently swore to himself that he would find a way out of the deal. A loophole. He ran over every possibility. He read his father's journal cover to cover six times over, been to every hack paranormal website on the internet, over every scrap of ancient lore and every bogus urban legend, desperately hoping to find something that would let Dean escape from his deal.

But he couldn't.

Even Ruby told them straight up that there was no way to save him. Dean was going to hell and that's just the way it was. But that wasn't good enough for Sam.

It had been two weeks since Dean had heard the first low, snarling growl in the middle of the night. Immediately alarmed, Sam insisted that they leave. They'd been driving for two straight weeks, only stopping for a few hours of sleep at a time. Dean didn't want run. He wanted to face the inevitable, that's what he said at least. But Sam knew it was bullshit. Even without the few moments of weakness Dean had over the last year, admitting that he was truly afraid of his doom to the pit, Sam could sense his brother's fear. Maybe Dean was ready to stop running, but Sam sure as hell wasn't. He wasn't buying Dean's tough ass facade. Nobody _wanted_ to go to hell.

So they drove. Day and night. 8 to 10 hours without stopping. Sam wasn't entirely sure _where_ they were going, but at least they weren't just sitting with their thumbs up their ass waiting for death to come knocking. But it didn't matter how fast or far they went. Every few hours, Dean's face would turn a pale ghostly white and his entire body would freeze stiff and Sam would know that the dogs had caught up with them. Sam had once referred to them as demonic pit bulls and that was no better way to describe them. Once they caught the scent of a soul in debt there was no letting go. The hellhounds were on their trail and there wasn't a single corner of the world that they could hide.

"Sam."

Sam remained motionless. Feet firmly planted on the ground, knees trembling and heart pounding, he raised his sagging, bloodshot eyes towards his older brother's horrific stare.

"Dean, don't move! Just stay inside the salt!" Sam's throat strained to holler over the endless thumping and clawing outside the dingy motel door. He cursed himself silently. No more than 40 minutes in the room and they had already caught up. The door was throbbing out from the intense thrashing and tearing.

"Sam...they're here." Sam had never seen Dean like this before. He'd been on edge ever since they started running but he was still the same arrogant prick as usual. But he seemed different now. Sam had never seen Dean look so hopelessly terrorized before in his life. "They're gonna get through." Dean's voice trembled as a panicky whisper.

"Just stay inside the rings, Dean! They can't get through!" Sam reassured his brother forcefully. "They'll go away if you just stay in the salt!" Keeping Dean calm was one of Sam's main priorities. It was strange to be in this position. Usually it was the other way around for the Winchester boys. Sam could recall numerous times when Dean's cool nature and quick thinking had saved Sam from so many other close calls. But Sam hadn't seen that side of Dean in the two weeks they'd been running. Fear had taken over him now, which forced Sam to take control.

_Okay, _Sam's eyes darted wildly off the drab walls of the tiny, overcrowded, shabby motel room. _Windows, vents, door... _Every possible entrance was surrounded by two thick rings of powder, one white for the salt, and one dark for the Goofer dust. Dean stood squarely in the middle of the room at the foot of two queen beds also enclosed by the two powdery circles. There wasn't anything else Sam could do but keep his brother from doing anything stupid until the hounds backed down. Without the colt they were helpless, but even if they did have it Sam doubted that it would do much good now.

"Sammy." Dean mouthed breathlessly. "It's getting louder."

Sam's ears were deaf to the thirsty rampant growls and the sharp sheering claws carving madly at the door. But Dean heard everything. Every deep slobbering snarl and every haunting morbid howl made his stomach lurch and his heart pound furiously. He could hear the blood pumping through his ears and his chest was heaving heavily as a few beads of sweat trickled down his forehead. Dean's throat tightened with a bowling ball sized lump caught in the middle. This was the sound of death. He was suffocating under the thundering chaos around him. The roaring ferocity from the yowling hounds grew deafening and Dean placed his hands over his ears in a desperate and futile attempt to block out the blaring uproar of pandemonium surrounding him. His fingers twitched uncontrollably and his mouth had gone bone dry. Dean's eyes became entranced on the door expecting it to burst open at any moment.

There was sudden eruption of rumbling fury hammering against the door grabbing Sam's attention with a skip of his heart. "They can't get in, Dean! Every entrance is blocked they won't cross over-!" Sam cut himself off when he caught his brother's mesmerized stare at the door. "Dean, _look _at me!"

Sam's command snapped Dean out of his captivated trance and he met his eyes with sharp glance of panic. "_They_ _can__'__t get in_!" Sam emphasized every word with a stern sense of assurance and a deep confident tone, as if he knew it were true. Dean gave a slight nod of response but said nothing. Truth be told, he didn't really believe it either.

Sam's busy eyes buzzed around the room looking for something, _anything_ they could put up to barricade the door. This wasn't going to work. They couldn't just stand there and hope for a miracle. His frantic gaze caught his brother's mirrored stare. Dean had almost made it, Sam mused silently to himself. After an entire year of snide remarks, relentless pride, and crude humor towards his highway to hell, Dean had finally collapsed under the intense, gnawing pressure brought on by his impending doom. The razor bladed fangs of horrific terror and gut wrenching inevitable fate had somehow managed to pierce through his solid exterior. Fear had been slowing chewing away at his emotional sanity for months now. It wasn't long after Dean met with the crossroads demon that his slumber became haunted by night terrors. He had been trying to emotionally close himself down, preparing for this moment, so that he wouldn't loose grip in front of Sam. But even Dean wasn't strong enough to keep his grasp when facing a sentence of eternal torment in the farthest depths of hell.

_Right. They can't get in_... Sam wiped his forehead with his sleeve brushing his chocolate brown mop of hair out of his eyes. _Iron, __devil's shoestring__,__ rock salt, shotgun... _He'd been preparing for this moment a long time and he wasn't about to take any chances. He'd taken all of the necessary precautions because frankly, Sam wasn't sure if it was only the hellhounds they were running from. He needed to be prepared for anything at this point. In one hand, Sam's hot sweaty palm clasped a thin, long fireplace rod made out of pure iron. In the other was Dean's shotgun loaded with thick homemade bullets of rock salt. And even Bobby was on his way, only about forty minutes out of town, Sam had called him the second the dogs hit the door. Everything that could be done was done. Had he more time, he would have drawn one hundred symbols of the Key of Solomon around the hotel. But the devil's trap itself probably wasn't strong enough for what was coming.

"Sam." Dean called out suddenly putting a jolt into Sam's guarded stance.

"What?" He spun around towards his brother just before noticing that the violent thumping and thrashing against the door had slowly but surely began to grow softer.

"They're...backing off." Dean's voice cracked in disbelief. "I can hear them...starting to..."

Dean's distant whisper trailed off as his eyes went wide at the door. He voice was followed by an immediate cease of the rebellious clambering at the door. Sam swallowed thickly. The door had stooped shaking. All signs of commotion had swiftly vanished into the blue. It was replaced with an eerie silence that hung heavily between the two hunters. Sam could only hear his own racing heart and Dean's hollow, rapid breathing in the background.

"Dean." Sam said in a low murmur. "Where did they go? What do you hear?" When only silence remained Sam turned around for a reply. "Dean, what do you-" Sam's breath caught up in his throat when his eyes traced down to the floor where the two rings around Dean's feet had enclosed him in a perfect circle were supposed to be. But each shape had narrow sliver scraped through the powder. The circles were broken.

"They're here, Sammy." Dean's faint voice hushed. "They're right _here_."

Sam's heart jumped up into his throat when the door blasted open and he gazed down in horror at the uncountable pairs of claws that suddenly carved through the hardwood floors. He didn't waste another second. Sam sprang into action aiming one step ahead of every claw mark at the floor and firing several futile shots at where he had hoped the hounds were. "Dean! Run! Get _out_!" Dean barely had time to react and Sam watched his brother collapse to the ground without warning. Something was on _top_ of him.

Sam was practically shooting blindly. His shots skimmed just above Dean's chest where he could only guess whatever was crushing Dean to the floor had been standing.

"Sam!" Dean moaned out in a breathless call. "It's..." Dean choked as what creature restrained him to the ground applied pressure on his chest. "It's on me..._Sam_!"

"Hold still!" Sam raised the iron rod across Dean's stomach. His arms cut sharply through the air as his swing was just about to collide with the beast, Sam felt the rod forcefully fly out from his fingers and hurl backwards into the wall behind him. Before his mouth even had the chance to drop in astonishment Sam felt his feet suddenly rising from the ground and his body fling back joining the iron rod against the wall.

Sam let out a painful groan as his body collided with the drywall. His arms and legs became frozen stiff and pinned against the wall. Unable to even move his fingertips from the intense solid force trapping him against the green and yellow striped wallpaper, Sam's eyes traveled again to the ground where Dean lay helplessly squirming and struggling under the weight of the creature. This was more than just a black dog. No hellhound had this kind of power. Sam didn't dare even try to imagine what sort of hellish creature Dean locked eyes with.

"Dean!" Sam hollered hopelessly. "Dean, I can't...I can't move! You've gotta get up!"

Dean yelled out a horrid agonizing scream of white hot pain that made Sam cringe in fear. Long, streaming scratches of blood suddenly tore through Dean's flesh like paper with each cut ripping deeper and deeper into his chest. Blood leaked down the sides of his body, soaking his clothes as he continued to wail. Only seconds later Dean was lying in a pool of his own blood. His entire body appeared as if he had been dunked into a red vat of tomato juice. Sam looked away. He was focusing every fibre in his being to fight the invisible pressure that forced him uselessly up against the wall. "You've got to get up Dean!"

"Sammy!" Dean's frantic, echoing screams were maddening to his ears and unbearable to his heart. He was watching his older brother have intestines ripped out before his eyes and there was nothing he could do to stop it. The ache in his chest was excruciatingly painful. Once in his entire life Dean had depended on him, and he failed. The _one_ time he was supposed to protect his older brother, and he managed to screw up. Dean was going to die because he had a useless, unreliable runt for a brother.

Dean was choking now. Gurgling on his own blood and no longer able to even scream. He was sputtering and spattering everywhere to keep from suffocating. Sam felt the tears begin to prick up in his eyes. Dean wouldn't last much longer now.

"Fight it!" Sam let the tears drip down his cheeks when Dean's choking and hacking began to die down. In a few more seconds he would lose consciousness and the deal would be done. "You're stronger than this! You can't die on me!" Sam's stomach did a back flip and his heart sank into a panicky rhythm as Dean finally laid his head back against the floor in defeat. Sam let out an agonizing holler that echoed through the lonely motel. He screamed his older brother's name in deep raspy gasps. A few seconds later, after the blood bath had stopped, the pressure let up on Sam's limbs and he fell to the ground with a brace-less thud. The hounds and the creature were gone. He pushed himself up and crawled franticly on his hands and knees towards Dean's gory still body. "Dean?" Sam muttered with a last lingering sense of hope trembling in his voice. He arrived in the last few seconds just in time to see his brother's eyelids close and his lips mouth his name with a final breath. "_Sammy_."

Sam's breaths became short and stiff with panic. He'd lost all nerve and control over his spilling tears. Cradling his brother's body in his arms and becoming drenched in his sopping wet puddle of blood and insides, Sam let out a series of uncontrollable sobs. He hated that name. _Sammy_ was a chubby twelve year old. He had constantly reminded that to Dean over the years but he never let up. But now, he would have given anything to have Dean just stand up, slap him on the back and say, "_Gotcha, Sammy_." The sorrow was almost too much for him to bear. Dean was the only one who was allowed to call him that. He'd never hear that name again. He'd lost his brother. His protector. The closest thing to a role model and parental figure he ever really had. He lost everything, because Dean wasn't willing to loose it. Dean somehow managed to think that by sacrificing his life for Sam's that he was making a worthwhile trade. He seemed to think that Sam would somehow be able to deal with the pain better than he would. As if Sam was the stronger one.

"You're wrong, Dean." Sam gazed down at his brother's pale, ghostly face with a moan. "I'm not as strong as you think. I...can't handle this pain either. Did you think I wouldn't feel it like you would?" As Sam blinked to clear up his blurry vision, he caught the silver outline of Dean's pistol at the corner of his eye.

It was sitting on the nightstand. Loaded and ready. No rock salt, just bullets, waiting to be fired.

Sam swallowed bitterly. It was so tempting. He could end all of this right now. All the pain and all the fury. It could all just go away. No more hunting, no more demons, no more death. He could join them all. Mom, Dad and Dean... And it was just out of arms reach...

Sam felt as though the room began to spin. As if he was slipping into a dream. There was nothing between him and the pistol. Just a river of his brother's blood running through the cracks of the hardwood flooring.

_It wouldn__'__t even hurt..._Sam wet his lips as the shape taunted him. _At least, not as much as Dean__'__s torture._

Sam didn't even stop to think. No second guessing himself. No over thinking. Nothing except the sudden internal drive to escape from all of his endless suffering. Sam knew that there was nothing left for him now. All of his hopes and dreams of living a semi-normal life died with Dean.

_So why shouldn't I?_

As Sam raised his dripping bloody arm for the pistol, conflicted fingers twitching, eager heart racing, he nearly leapt out of his skin when a sudden skid of sopping wet running shoes bolted in through the doorway. Sam blinked hard at the figure in the doorway who let out a sharp foul gasp when he caught sight of the two brother's drowning in blood.

"You're too late, Bobby." Sam whispered through a weary sob.

Bobby's eyes were ablaze. His mouth fell open at the wretched sight. He stood motionless in the doorway with the overwhelming wave of utter shock and disbelief tuning his expression to a stunned gasp of distraught and horror. His wide eyes continued to scan back and forth between the two boys until they fell only on Sam and the pistol.

"S...Sam." Bobby stuttered when the grim realization of Sam's intentions dawned upon him. "Don't do this."

Sam's eyes swept down back onto his brother's colorless cheeks. His bleak, lifeless features and grave, solemn expression burned Sam's eyes. The sight of Dean's limp, red corpse was blinding. Sam couldn't even look at his brother without a blade of indescribable pain and loss slicing through his heart.

"Bobby, I can't live like this." Sam murmured softly. "It was supposed to be _me_."

Bobby dared to take a step forward when Sam's finger's slid onto the trigger of the gun, leisurely lifting it up and placing it against his temple.

"Whoa, Sam." Bobby's voice quickened with alarm. "Just...take it easy. Just think about it for minute-"

"I'm _done_ thinking, Bobby!" Sam suddenly erupted with a bawling howl. "I'm done with it _all_."

Bobby inched closer, his feet on the outskirts of Dean's endless expanding river of blood. "Put it down, Sam. Think about it. You don't really want to do this-"

"I don't!?" Sam spat with a quivering yell. "Bobby, look at him!"

Bobby lowered his gaze down onto Dean's carcass. Words were unable to describe what kind of cruel torture Dean must have suffered for his body to become so maliciously mutilated.

"_Look_ at him!" Sam raved on as his voice began to break. "That's my big brother...I did this too him."

"Sam-"

"_Don__'__t_!" Sam's could feel his entire body trembling. A devastating black hole was opening up inside him. He'd never felt this kind of loss before. Not from his mother, not from his father, not even from Jessica.

"Dean's gone! He's gone to hell!" He swallowed dryly. His nimble, agitated fingers getting ready for the pop. "And I couldn't save him." His stare fell back down onto his brother's gut wrenching corpse. Sam had to suppress a gag as he caught a glimpse of Dean's intestines sprawled across his stomach. It was a sickly punishment. Not a normal gig for the hellhounds. They wanted to make sure Dean suffered just long enough to feel his own organs spilling out of his body. His torment was their way of getting compensation.

Sam felt a burning sensation of pure and utter hatred welling up in his chest. Part of him wanted to end it all now. Throw in the towel and never face such extreme anguish again. But there was another part of him. A deeper part that commanded revenge. An inner instinct that craved for a hunt. The ultimate hunt.

The very idea of vanquishing the demon that held Dean's contract and murdered him tonight on this floor was like an unquenched thirst. Sam wet his lips nervously. He got a sick pleasure just dreaming about killing that creature. He dreamed of the satisfaction knowing his hand personally brought death to the evil that had ruined his life, as well as his brother's.

_What would Dad do? _Sam deliberated carefully. _...What would Dean do?_

Sam froze when the realization hit him. Dean wouldn't even have the nerve to kill himself knowing that his little brother was going to burn in the fiery depths of hell for all eternity. The thought alone would drive him insane. It was cowardly and selfish for Sam to let his brother rot there. Dead is dead, but hell is hell. Two very different fates. It occurred to him, that if he pulled the trigger now, he would be dead, but not suffering the same excruciating doom Dean was. It would never be evened out. Not unless...

"Sam," Bobby's voice broke Sam's grim and gloomy thoughts. "Just think," Bobby eyed him carefully. "Do you really want Dean's death to go in vain?"

Sam glared back at him while a raging battle went on inside his head. Both sides were so tempting. So irresistible. He had a choice to make. It was one or the other. Right now.

With a final tear running down his cheek, Sam lowered the gun away from his temple. The Winchester's weren't going to go out without a final fight. Dean's memory would remain untarnished and Sam would get his ultimate revenge.

No, Sam Winchester never dreamed that this day would actually come.

**To be continued.**

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**Author's note: If you read the summary above, you know that Dean isn't permantly dead. I would never have the heart to do that. This is just the beginning and I haven't even gotten to the main plot yet. PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! They are very much loved and they make me write faster :).**


	2. Chapter 2

**2 months later**

"Sam!"

A clamorous upsurge of deep, roaring thunder erupted around him. Blinding flashes of lightning cracked and whipped in is ears. Dean's emerald eyes searched frenetically through the black weaving web of chains and coiled wire.

"Somebody, help me!"

Dean struggled to escape the intertwining chains. His limbs were stretched widely apart by the thick, binding locks clenching tightly and digging excruciatingly into his wrists and ankles. Sharp, razor daggers of metal pointed hooks pierced through the flesh on his shoulders like pushing a pencil through paper. A dark maroon shade of blood leaked through his thin, cotton shirt. Dean was surrounded by a looming shadow of poisonous black and sickly gray smog forbidding any flicker of light from illuminating the evil desolate atmosphere.

"Sammy!" Dean's shivering cries for his brother echoed hauntingly through the smog and endless cables stretching as far as he could see. He was a pitiful, helpless fly caught in a bloodthirsty spider's sticky web. He trembled in a frenzy of unrestrained terror. "No." His gasps of utter shock and screams of relentlessly horror would go unheard. This was it. The ultimate prison of sinister darkness. Sam had failed to save him. He didn't want to believe it. It wasn't supposed to happen. Sam was supposed to have saved him...

The rumble of exploding thunder shook Dean out of his denial. His thoughts of sheer panic and hopless desire for salvation rattled him to his very core. He was finally here. He was finally facing eternity. He was in hell.

"_SAM!_"

* * *

"Dean! No!"

Sam violently shot up from the mattress in an alarming frenzy of complete hysteria. A surge of intense tremors shook his large muscular frame as his mind struggled frantically to get a grip on the twisting and whirling darkness surrounding him. He gasped sharp, rapid breaths of air and his chest glistened with sweat in the brilliant beams of afternoon sunlight that crept through the silvers between the blinds.

_Just a dream._ Sam's eyes fluttered madly as the blurry, swirling haze clouding his vision began to fade. The blended images of sickly gruesome visions of hell sill lingered in his mind. _It was just a nightmare. _

His head crashed back down onto his pillow as a warm wave of relief washed through his body, soaking and cleansing his mind of such haunting terrors. It had been two full months since Sam saw the light leave his brother's eyes and the warmth drain away from his body. Two months of endless tormenting nightmares. The dark, desolate gap of anguish and emptiness that grew inside Sam had metastasized into a twisted black hole that was slowly sucking every last strand of hope and life out of him. It was a dare just to open his eyes every morning. A bitter hatred and sense of insatiable loathing was building up inside him. He'd fallen into a indescribable type of misery. He'd lost his brother and all of his emotional sanity. At first, the pain was almost unbearable. It dragged him down so fast and so hard that it hurt to even move. Whether he was speeding down a long strip of black endless highway or simply sitting on Bobby's couch, completely hammered and watching the _Mix 'n mash 1000_ infomercial at 3 o'clock in the morning, Sam was broken.

Hot blades of pain relentlessly stabbed at his heart. Dean was _gone_. Sam had finally lost his big brother.

A new instinct had been to develop from his grief. A bloodthirsty hunter's instinct. He wanted that demon _dead_.

Sam would usually sleep the better part of the day away. Facing the sunlight was almost unbearable now. He took great comfort in the bleak pits of darkness. It was a safe refuge for Sam when he needed to just curl up into safe warm shell and just weep. It was a shelter where he could escape the loneliness of emotional solitude.

If he wasn't sleeping he was researching. He'd been to nearly every library in South Dakota digging up every ancient legend and myth that even mentioned the idea of hell. He buried himself in his research, trying to avoid the endless emotional torment and guilt hovering incessantly in the back of his mind. Dusty, tattered 100 year old books and bogus paranormal websites had become his new best friends. The lonely corner in the back of a deserted library on a Friday night became a safe place of refuge. Research became an escape. The only thing able to distract him from the bulging ball of guilt and sorrow that swelled up in his heart, even if just for a second.

There had to be something. There was always _something_. There was always a way. And Sam had to find it.

Something that could kill the demon. The demon that ripped his brother's insides out right before his eyes. A way to bring Dean back.

Sam's hand smoothed along his bare chest until his fingers brushed against the cold, familiar chunk of brass attached to a long leather cord around his neck. His brother's amulet. Sam hadn't taken it off in the 2 months since Dean's death. It felt wrong to burn it with his body. Dean had worn this pendant everyday since he was 12 and claimed that it was the best Christmas gift he'd ever got from his baby brother. It was the only little piece of his brother that Sam still had left.

_It should have been me._

"Sam?" A gruff, uncertain tone mumbled on the other side of the door snapping Sam out of his memories and back down to reality. Back to South Dakota. Back to the musty spare room in Bobby's cabin. Back to his emotional hole. Back to the hunt.

"Boy, it's nearly 2 in the pm, you up yet?"

Sam swallowed dryly as he strained to lift himself again. His head spun wildly from a wicked head rush as if he'd just collided face first with a brick wall. "Yeah," Sam grumbled wearily. "I'm comin'." Sam drew in a long ragged breath as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and his eyes met the floor with a fuzzy stare. Already, a sickening ball of dread had inflated inside his stomach. The thought of another miserable, agonizing day teased his somnolent mind. Sam leisurely forced himself onto his feet and away from the sweaty, wrinkled, tatty sheets and towards his duffel bag tucked away in the shadows and cobwebs of the grimy cabin corner. Digging through his bag of foul reeking unwashed clothes his fingers caught a familiar shape wrapped up in one of his t-shirts in a secluded pouch at the foot of the duffel. His hands unraveled the shirt and an alarming tingling sensation passed through his fingers as they wrapped themselves tightly around the unmistakable frame.

Dean's pistol.

Sam had nearly forgotten about it. He forgot that he had swiped it off the bedside table of the motel and slipped it into the back of his jeans without Bobby noticing. He had to keep it, just in case he became desperate for a permanent escape. Sam felt a sudden shiver jolt through his veins as his eyes narrowed on the end of the loaded pistol. Even now it mocked him. After enduring 2 solid months of wretched torment, the gun was almost too much to resist...

In the very back of his mind, Sam knew he was never going to see his brother again. He would never be able to rescue Dean from the fiery clutches of hell. Nobody could. Sam would never admit that though, not even to himself. Still attempting to convince himself otherwise, Sam wrapped the pistol back up into his shirt and buried it at the bottom of the bag. After all, it didn't hurt to have a back up plan...

After throwing on a shirt, tucking in Dean's amulet safely underneath, and pair of tatty, frayed jeans he deserted the stuffy, dismal room and reluctantly went to meet Bobby outside.

The sun shot down from a cloudless sky beaming what felt like a white, blistering flare into Sam's tender eyes. He squinted passed the heaping piles of discarded, broken auto parts that lay scattered throughout the entire property and passed the occasional hell of a busted up frame resembling what once may have been a smoothing running vehicle. Funny, Sam mused to himself silently, that after two months of living in an auto salvage yard he still couldn't tell the difference between a hub cap and a rotor. Dean could have though. Dean knew every single component of the Impala inside and out. Especially since he had to practically rebuild the entire thing on his own. Sam recalled about a year ago when Dean spent weeks shoveling through the mounds of ancient busted car parts to replace the ones that had been destroyed when they were run off the road.

The faintest hint of smirk tugged at the corner of Sam's lips when he thought how his brother would react to Sam's brand new bright blue Toyota mini-van. He'd probably think it was a bloody disgrace to dive that thing out in public.

"Sam," Sam looked up, and his smile vanished. His eyes met Bobby's for a split second before they drifted curiously to the woman tagging behind.

"Ellen?" Sam's brow lifted as he blinked with surprise. "What are you doing he-?" Sam stopped in mid sentence when the older, female hunter approached him hastily and wrapped her arms around his shoulders in a tight in embrace.

"Aw, Sam." He could hear the trembling rasp in her voice as she choked out, "I can't even..." Ellen trailed off as she patted him gently on the back. "I can't even begin to tell you how sorry I am."

Sam remained silent. He'd never thought Ellen to be a particularly sensitive woman, but even as she spoke he could see her glossy eyes in the light. "How are you holding up?"

Sure. It was a pretty stupid question. But Sam knew Ellen meant no harm. "I'm..." Sam opened his mouth to reply, unable to find the right words to sum up his dark frame of mind all in one sentence. "Well...you know." Was all he could muster with a small shrug.

Ellen gave a brief nod of understanding as Bobby piped up, "Ellen's heading out to Sioux Falls for a couple of days. She's helping out a friend up there."

"Yeah," Ellen raised her glance up to Sam. "I owe her big time and she's got one hell of a nasty poltergeist on her hands. I promised I'd help her out with it."

Sam nodded slowly. There was an awkward sort of silence that lingered briefly between the three hunters. Neither Bobby nor Ellen knew exactly what to say. And Sam just didn't care. He had research to do and a long drive ahead of him. He'd scheduled an appointment in Vermillion with a Prof at the University of South Dakota. Apparently, Dr. Albert Finch was more than just history professor. He was a retired hunter. And had a hell of a rep when it came to demons. Sam knew there was no harm in at least hearing what he had to say.

"Well," Sam breathed with hasty tone. "I've got a three hour drive ahead of me. It was nice seeing you again, Ellen-"

"Sam, wait." Ellen cut him off before he could turn to leave. "Listen...we could use all the help we could get."

Sam stiffened and his eyes narrowed suspiciously as Ellen continued. "Why don't you come with me for awhile? Take a break from all your researching and just..." Ellen trailed off. Sam shot her fierce glare.

"A job?" Sam's dark tone muttered with absolute disbelief. "My brother...is suffering in a fiery prison in hell...and you want me to work a _job_?"

"Sam-"

"No." Sam spun around on his heel. His feet kicking up dust as he stomped irately towards his van with Bobby trailing after him. "Sam, wait!"

Sam hastily opened the trunk of his mini van carelessly and tossed in his duffel bag. _A job? They want me to hunt a freakin' poltergeist? _Sam slammed the trunk down in trembling fury. He didn't have time for this. He had much bigger fish to fry.

"What's the matter with you, boy?!" Bobby approached him with a stern glower and hostile tongue. "You've been hiding out in that room for nearly two months! You won't eat, you won't hardly speak to anyone, your temper shoots off like a flare gun, and all you do is sit on the laptop hoping to find some bogus civi website on how to cure death! Do you think Dean really wanted all this for you?!"

Sam didn't reply. He reached for the door handle and opened it only half way before Bobby slammed it shut again. "I thought this would be good for you, Sam. You need to get out of here and move on. Dean's gone. And there ain't no getting him back. That was his choice. Nobody can stop a hellhound-"

"A hellhound is _not _what killed Dean, Bobby!" Sam let go of the grip on his rage. "You saw the break in the salt! It was more than a hellhound, Bobby! Something broke those circles! Something more than hellhounds! Something _else _killed Dean!" Sam retorted breathlessly with a sharp strain in his voice. "I don't have time to move on! Dean is screaming for help down there! I'm not going to let him suffer while I pretend not to hear him!"

Sam left Bobby staring wide eyed and speechless as he climbed into the van and started up the engine.

Dean had been in hell for two months. Two months already wasted. Every second that ticked by, Dean's humanity slipped away. It wouldn't be much longer until his brother's soul was too tainted with demonic hatred to be saved. Sam didn't have time for a bloody _poltergeist_.

He had work to do.

**To be continued.**

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**Author's Note: Sam's dream was supposed to like the version of hell in "No rest for the wicked." Please leave a review! I'll update soon!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Let me say THANK YOU SO MUCH to all of you who have reviewed! I appreciate all of your opinions and am SO grateful for them! Thank you!**

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_Name: (First) Daniel Name: (Last) Walton. Sex: Male Age: 29 _

Perfect.

Ruby's sharp, hazel eyes swiftly scanned the highly confidential medical records of Daniel Walton.

_Family_

_Father: Riley Walton (Deceased) Mother: Henrietta Walton (Deceased)_

No family. Good. No one will come looking for him.

_Medical allergies_

_Peanuts, strawberries, coconut, penicillin..._

Oh well. No more PB&J sandwiches. Dean would have to suck it up.

_Social history _

_Minor league baseball team; gradate of USD, Masters Degree in Psychology_,_ coach for the local little league team, volunteer firefighter..._

Wow. This guy was quite the catch. Minus the severe cerebral edema and the inability to gain consciousness. Daniel Walton was an absolutely perfect host for Dean. They even had the same initials.

Ruby lowered the file as her eyes traveled to the pale, lifeless, features of the once handsome young man.

His limp, motionless body lay still under the thin, itchy sheets. He'd been lying in a comatose state for nearly a year now. Ruby was surprised they hadn't pulled the plug on him. His mind was gone but his body could still serve purpose. And that was exactly what Ruby needed.

Two months of scouring the country in search of the perfect host for Dean's demonic soul had finally brought her to _The Avera McKennan General Hospital_, Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Two months of gathering all of the necessary materials. This wasn't just another summoning ritual. It had to be done with precisely the right amount of ingredients, at exactly the stroke of midnight on the last day of the lunar cycle.

She'd timed it just right. It was flawless.

Her eyes narrowed. A faint glow of moonlight beamed down through the window casting a brilliant illumination on Daniel's handsome features. He had bushy chestnut brown hair, broad muscular shoulders, and a still, dewy sensitive expression. And for a human, he was pretty damn cute. Too bad he ended up as a useless, brain-dead, human sack of flesh. No matter though, he would be up and full of life again, checking out of the hospital and declared as a miracle survivor.

Or at least, his body would be.

Ruby turned on her heel leaving Daniel's bedside swiftly pacing across the dark, silent room and closed the door, shutting out the bright, flickering florescent lights in the hallway. The streaming ray of moonlight was the only relief from the engulfing darkness around. Ruby was ready. It was time.

Ruby knelt down beside the bed in the vivid moon's soft glow. She reached behind her to the pile of ingredients and materials she had gathered for the séance. A pinch of Amaranth, uprooted under a full moon, a dozen Hemp seed candles, a cup of Lobelia poison, Vervain, the witches herb, a knot of twisted Yucca fibers, sprinkles of Barberry and a few Hops herb leaves, just to even everything out. Placed beside the alter cloth was a shoe-box containing a black cat bone, a jug of lambs blood, a band of silver and a few mere droplets of the victim's blood. Dean's blood. And a jar of good old fashion graveyard dirt for a final touch. When brought together, these ingredients became a deadly combination for any mortal human being. The spell would be too powerful for a human to convene. The incantation was not of Latin but of demon tongue. The dark, medieval magic would destroy a human soul. Ruby was left with no choice but to perform it alone.

Ruby pressed firmly against the ground as her fingers gripped a stump of white chalk which she used to connect the triangle tips and round circles shapes drawn out on the floor at the head of Daniel's bed. Once she was finished she stood and looked down over the summoning symbol she'd created. Azazel's summoning symbol. Powerful, but dangerous to those who didn't know how to use it properly. Even to demons, using this symbol in any ritual or séance was a risk. But it was necessary and powerful enough to reach into the depths of hell and pull Dean out. At least, that was her plan.

The young female hunter crouched down again hovering above the symbol. She placed each of the Hemp seed candles in the circles of the symbol and a few on the outskirts surrounding and lit each one hastily, the tiny flames giving off an eerie glow. After adding the rest of the ingredients to the silver platter on top of the alter cloth in the middle, Ruby lit the final candle in the center, preparing to begin the incantation. This was it. She had to have everything perfectly precise. She had one shot at this. If she screwed up now, Dean would have to wait another two full months before she could try again. That is, if she didn't end up in the pit as well.

Ruby drew in a final breath before beginning to utter the demonic chant. She closed her eyes for a brief second, and they blinked open again as two, black, beady demon eyes. She spoke softly up towards the direction of the moonlight. A sudden rush of whirling wind blasted through the window shattering the glass into a thousand pieces across the room. Ruby remained still with feet firmly planted on the ground next to Daniel's bedside while the wind whipped around her, scattering loose papers and trashing the room into a fit of whirling chaos. Her lips continued to whisper the chant as the floor began to rumble and the walls trembled from the waves of sudden spasms in the ground. As she finished the incantation her eyes returned to a faded hazel and the thrashing wind ceased to only a mere drafting whistle. The quaking ground became still and the chaos settled. Ruby drew in a long exasperated breath before approaching the motionless figure in the bed, seemingly unharmed by the pandemonium around. Her hand slinked down towards her belt and her fingers wrapped around the solid chunk of rectangular wood, the handle of her dagger, unsure of what to expect as she stepped cautiously towards the bed.

It took a few seconds for Ruby to notice she was holding her breath, her eyes glued to Daniel's body, not daring to tare them away for an instant. Did it work? Was it really Dean? Had she done it right?

She waited silently, keeping her mesmerized stare locked on the young man's face, she watched for any sign of movement. Any sign of life within the body.

And then she saw it.

Her breath was stolen away and her eyes stretched wide as they glanced down to Daniel's right hand. The end of his pinkie finger lifted as a small twitch.

A wide smirk of satisfaction spread across Ruby's lips. She did it. Dean was free.

"Get up." Ruby placed her hand on his shoulder and gave him a firm shake. "Dean, get control. Wake up."

Another twitch trembled through his finger before Daniel's puppy dog brown eyes fluttered open and fell on Ruby's smirk. "Morning, sunshine."

**To be continued.**

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**I'm sorry it's so short. The next one will be coming soon. I promise that a lot more will be explained if some of you are confused. Unfortunately, exams are coming up pretty soon , so I'll probably only be able to update once a week at the very most. PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! Once again, I appreciate them SO much!**


	4. Chapter 4

It all seemed so _unreal._

Ruby slammed the mushroom beige, Mazda CX-7 door shut with a bang just after climbing into the driver's seat and starting up the engine.

It was just so..._impossible._ He could hardly believe that it was happening. Was it a dream? No, hell was not a place for dreams. It had to be real. He had to be free. But even as he gawked at Ruby's attentive stare out ahead at the long, dark stretch of highway, eyes flaring with alarm, Dean's panicky fingers-- no, not his fingers, Daniel's fingers, twitched uncontrollably as he fiddled with the buckle of his seatbelt, unable to remain still. He couldn't believe his eyes. She was there. Right in front of him. Ruby. Another human--well, at least, the _body_ of another human. It had been what seemed like forever since Dean's weary bloodshot eyes--Daniel's eyes, had even seen the slightest hint of another human.

There was nothing human about hell.

"We need to get out of town." Ruby's voice was almost nothing but a distant echo to his ears. His mind was too busy trying to settle the intense, sudden blast of shock that had hit him square in the stomach. His heart pounded wildly as he turned his head towards the passenger seat window where the outside world whizzed by. The world. Earth. The words seemed strange to him now. Until now, the very idea of escaping back into the world was nothing but a naive and childish hope. The hope that maybe he could return, seemed virtually impossible.

But he was finally _here_.

There was an eerie stillness that settled over his body as he slowly began to take in his surroundings. The environment was strange to him now. Nothing was familiar. Not the dull roar of the engine when Ruby pressed down the accelerator, not the fresh pine scent of the little pine tree refresher dangling under the rear-view mirror, not the bright beams of light streaming down on the slippery, wet blacktop outside, not even the faint, whining country voice blended with banjos and fiddles radiating from the radio speakers in the background.

"It won't be long until someone notices that Daniel's body is gone." Ruby informed.

_Daniel? Am I...?_

Dean looked down at his hands. They were large and pale, with white, dull fingernails. Similar to what he had been used to...in his old body, his _real _body. But there was something different about them. Something disturbingly foreign about them. They weren't his. Nothing was his. And nothing ever would be ever again.

Dean lowered his hands and lifted his eyes up towards the rear-view mirror and met a strange reflection. He had thick chestnut brown hair and a pair of dark, beady brown eyes. His skin was a ghostly white pale and outline of his face was bony and almost sickly thin.

"Don't worry," Ruby snickered when she glanced at Dean studying his face in the mirror. "That body has been in a coma. As soon as it can get proper nutrition you'll be a handsome young stud again."

Dean didn't reply. It felt so strange and awkward to be inside this body. But any body would have felt the same. Dean rubbed his fingers together. He had flesh again. Real flesh. With senses that he could recognize.

Cautiously, Dean inched his finger out the open crack of the window Ruby had rolled down. A sudden jolt shot through his body as he recognized the sensation once again. Wind. It was really the wind. He could feel the breeze rushing against his fingertips. The corners of his lips turned up slightly. He was really back. He could feel things again. Things like wind and the few drops of rain that trickled down his thumb.

_I'm really back._

There was no wind in hell. No water. No sunshine. No pine scented air fresheners. Just pain. And ash. And darkness.

There was no flesh. No warm, fluid sensation of blood streaming through his veins. No faint drumming thud of his own beating heart. No sense of real touch. Not even a tingle. Just pain. And when there was no torturous agony there was the cold lingering sensation of numbness. Hell wasn't somewhere you could go. It was something that you were. Something you became. Dean had become part of it. He had begun to blend the mixtures of numbness and pain together until there was no difference. He was loosing himself to it. He was becoming it.

But now he was back. Now he had escaped. But what was he? Was he human? This wasn't his body... was he a spirit? Did he possess this body? Was there really some poor sap locked in this body with him?

Dean closed his eyes. Listening intently for someone. Someone inside him. For a voice. For Daniel.

But when no reply came, Dean opened his eyes and turned towards Ruby again where she met him with an expectant grin.

"No, Dean. It's just you in there." She said as though she had been reading his thoughts. "Daniel Walton's spirit left that body a long time ago. His parents kept his body alive in a coma. It's nothing but a useless hunk of flesh now. And since he wasn't using it I knew it would be much more useful for you. Where do you think I got my body from?"

Dean didn't respond. His eyes shifted back up to his reflection curiously. _But then...what am I?_

"I'm actually just as surprised as you are, Dean." Ruby interrupted his thoughts. "I didn't actually think that ritual would work. It's one of the most powerful summoning rituals out there. It takes nearly 2 months of planning and preparing to do. But it's worth it. It can summon any demon and bring them back from hell. Only another demon can perform it."

Dean froze. His heart skipped a beat. _A demon..._Dean's eyes stretched wide when he came to the dreadful conclusion. _Oh God...I'm a demon._

"I wasn't even sure it was going to work. Normally it takes centuries for a soul to become a full demon but they give out our special deluxe packages for hunters. Especially for someone like you. You got a one-way ticket to hell plus the demon extraordinaire deal." Ruby snickered again.

Dean felt his heart sink in disappointment. He wasn't human. He wasn't really back. He didn't feel like a demon. He didn't feel like a bloodthirsty creature of evil and destruction. In fact, he felt just the opposite.

"But don't worry, this is a good thing." Ruby scanned his disheartened expression and added. "You'll be a lot more powerful against Lilith. You're like me. We haven't got the demon instinct. Part of us are still...human." Dean said nothing. He could only think of what kind of monster he had become. _I'm one of them...I've become one of them...I've become what I hunt..._

"You still want Lilith's head on a plate, don't you?" When Dean didn't respond again Ruby nudged him in the back of the head. "You still with me?"

Dean shot her a fierce glare. Ruby mirrored his expression. "Don't give me that look. If it weren't for me you'd still be nothing but a screaming, rotting soul on a stick. You should be kissing my ass."

Dean looked away as Ruby's tone grew impatient. "You're a demon, Dean. You're just like me. We are equal. You've got no reason to hate me now. I've done nothing but try to help you. I saved your sorry soul from the deepest darkest depths of hell, and that's more than your brother was able to do."

Dean blinked. Hard. _Brother...?_ Suddenly, before Dean could react, a giant wave of warmth and memories washed through his weary, tarnished soul.

_Sam._

His mouth fell open and his eyes drifted back to Ruby's sly and wicked grin. "At least that got your attention."

Sam. Where was Sam? Where was his baby brother? Why wasn't he here? Was he even alive?

"He's safe." Ruby's eyes scanned his curious and alarming expression with a twisted sense of amusement tingling in her eye. "For now...at least."

Dean closed his eyes and let a surge of relief sooth through his body. Sam. His brother. He was still alive. Still out there.

Dean swallowed thickly and cleared his throat mustering up the words to speak. It was harder than he expected. His throat was on fire and he only made a mumble of jumbled words at first.

"Sorry," Ruby couldn't suppress a disdainful laugh. "I didn't quite catch that."

Dean lowered his eyes. He tried again. This time only in the faintest whisper he said, "Where is Sammy?" He took a breath and spoke in a stronger, lower tone. "Where is my brother?"

Ruby's lips curled up into a sickly, amused smile. "In South Dakota. Last I heard he was bunking with an old-timer in an auto salvage yard."

_Bobby. _Dean concluded silently as Ruby added. "Kid's been spending every waking hour in various libraries across the state. Practically glued to his laptop. He should have known that he wasn't going to find anything useful from other _humans_."

Dean's jaw tightened. _He was looking for a way to get me out. _Dean mused when a comforting feeling swelled in his heart as if a warm blanket wrapped around his soul. _He was still trying to save me._

"I have to see him." Dean suddenly became aware of a sense of urgency to see his little brother. "I have to get there." Dean turned to Ruby with an expression that said there was no alternative. He needed to see Sam now.

But Ruby planned otherwise. "Hold your horses there, cowboy." Ruby pressed her foot down the break and the Mazda pulled into a small parking lot gas station and circled around until they pulled up into the drive through McDonalds beside it. "We've got to get some food into that body. Like it or not, your body still needs food regardless of what's got control over it. You're not a powerful enough demon to survive without it."

Ruby pulled around the corner and ordered two Big Macs and a strawberry shake in the speaker. She hastily threw some change at the cashier in the window and threw the brown paper bag with the golden arch onto Dean's lap. "Eat."

Dean gave her a look of disgust. He needed his brother, not a slab of meat. "I don't want-"

"You won't be able to save Sam if your body can't even function properly."

Dean's eyes widened. "Save him?" Dean felt his heart flutter madly beneath the dark leather jacket Ruby had instructed him to change into at the hospital. "Is Sam in danger?"

"Damn right he's in danger. But the kid is so focused on trying to save you're sorry ass from the pit he hasn't even noticed what's coming for him. I swear, the minute one of you boys steps in a pile of shit, the other one looses all real hunter's instinct and runs around like a chicken with his head cut off." Ruby spat with disapproval.

"What is-?"

"Eat. Or I won't tell you anything more." Ruby instructed harshly.

Dean lowered his glaring gaze down at the brown paper bag. He could smell the taunting scent of fresh burgers lingering in the air. His stomach made a low gurgling sound before his hands sunk into the bag and pulled out the bright red Big Mac box and opened the lid as he swallowed eagerly.

Food. Real food.

Just as Dean shoved the burger into his watery mouth, his gag reflex kicked in and he choked up the meat into the paper bag. Ash. The whole thing tasted like ash, grime and soot.

"What?" Ruby let out a snigger of pleasure as Dean spat up the rest of the burger into the bag. "Not well done enough for you?"

Dean wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"You're a demon." Ruby answered simply. "And that means you are meant to suffer. Anything enjoyable has been removed from your capabilities. Everything will taste like that. But you need it. So suck it up and eat." Ruby pulled up into the gas station beside the restaurant. "If you think eating is bad, try having sex." She gave him a wink. "It's _not_ fun."

That was when it hit him. Nothing was ever going to be the same. He would never taste burgers, pizza, pie, or even beer ever again. Even picking up waitresses wouldn't be any fun anymore, according to Ruby.

Everything he knew was going to be different. He couldn't even get is own body back. He felt his stomach lurch at the thought. Everything about him was going to change.

But not Sam.

Sam wasn't going to change. No matter who he was or what he became, Dean would still always have Sam. He suddenly felt a burning need to see his baby brother again.

"You have to take me to see Sam." Dean turned to Ruby with an arrogant expression. "_Please._"

Ruby let out a long, ragged sigh before she said carefully, "I can't. Not yet anyway."

"Why not?" Dean inquired fiercely.

"You can't tell him who you are. You can't tell him that you're back."

Dean studied Ruby's face for any hint of a smile to say that she was still screwing with him. But there was nothing but a deadly look of seriousness in her eye.

"There are certain...rules that go along with your freedom. You cannot tell anyone who you really are, or that you are a demon. It's part of the ritual. It's part of being a demon. You are supposed to be alone. Unable to reconnect with old family and friends."

"Screw that." Dean dismissed her warning with a careless glare. "I'm _going_ to see my brother, and I'm _going_ to tell him that I'm back. I'm not just gonna let him suffer like that-"

"You don't have choice." Ruby hissed with a growing intolerance for Dean's stubborn attitude. "You tell anyone about who you are and you're soul flies so fast back to hell you won't even have time to finish you're last name."

Ruby's words burned in Dean's heart. How could he not tell Sammy? How could he not tell his baby brother that he was okay? He knew that Sam would be a wreck. How would be able to resist reassuring Sam that he was alive?

"If you go back to hell, you can't save Sam and we can't stop Lilith. She is the one who's after Sam and she'll have him in the ground by the end of the month if you and I don't do something about it."

Dean swallowed thickly. "You mean...that's the reason you brought me back? So we could stop Lilith?"

Ruby nodded hastily. "And so that you could save your brother's ass...again." She turned off the engine. "I can't do this alone, Dean. And I knew you were the only one that would still have enough human left in him to help me."

Dean didn't reply. All he could think about now was how much his brother needed him now more than ever.

"Will you help me or not?" Ruby stared at him hard, scanning him for a sincere answer. "Will you help me save your brother?"

Dean hesitated. Work with Ruby? The conniving, lying bitch that told him that there was absolutely no way of saving him from the pit. He was supposed to help her? True, he wanted Lilith dead. And more than anything he wanted to save his brother from the same torturous fate he'd been subjected to over the last two months. But could he trust her? She was a demon after all...

Dean stopped in mid thought. So was he. She was right. He didn't have a choice.

As much as it pained his pride, Dean gave her a slight nod of agreement. He would help her. As long as it meant saving Sam.

"Good." Dean couldn't help but notice the slight tone of surprise that was even in her voice. "Because we don't have much time."

Ruby opened the door and stepped out of the car. Dean watched carefully as she lifted the gas nozzle and placed it in the tank. When she finished, she walked towards the building, probably to pay. Dean waited until she set foot in the door before he shifted across to the driver's seat. She had left the keys in the ignition.

Dean twisted the ignition until the engine switched on. An impish grin spread across his lips.

Sure, he'd help Ruby, _after _he made sure for himself that Sam was alive.

**To be continued.**

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**Sorry it took me so long to write this chapter. Exams and stuff kept me busy but I LOVE your reviews! Thank you so much!**

**Please leave a review? They are very much LOVED!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for all of your lovely reviews and support! I've got many new ideas and many new directions to take this fic, so I hope you continue to read and review! Thanks again! :)!**

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"_I'm so sorry for your loss, son. But in all my life, I've never heard of anything powerful enough to bring your brother back."_

Screw that.

Sam slammed his foot down on the accelerator. One more hour and he would be back at Bobby's. Okay, so the professor turned out to be a useless, dead beat prick, but that didn't mean all hope was lost. He needed to get back and come up with another plan. He needed time to think. Maybe Ellen would know someone he could talk to. Surely there was at least _one_ other hunter somewhere across the world trying to accomplish the exact same thing as Sam. Somebody _had _to know how to save his brother.

Sam kept his focus out on the misty road ahead through his windshield window. Sharp darts of rain hammered down against the glass. A sudden crash of thunder rumbled above as he sped down the sharp, twisty, rolling back roads of Sioux Falls, South Dakota. Whipping crackles of lightning struck beyond the hills in the distance. The racing tires of the bright, blue Toyota would often skid without warning as Sam struggled with the steering wheel to take back control. The van sloshed through deep puddles soaking the streets with mud and grime washed out by the heavy droplets of rain. Sam strained to see through the windshield out at what seemed like a thick, endless cloud of fog looming over the road. The bright headlights from the van beamed down on the black, slippery pavement revealing only a few feet ahead. Sam's shoulders slumped down in disappointment. It would take twice as long to navigate through the puffy, gray haze. The storm would hold him back another hour.

2 more hours. 120 more minutes. 7200 more seconds. Sam felt is stomach lurch. A few months ago, 2 hours would have meant Sam would have had to endure 2 more agonizing hours of Dean's collection of head-bashing classic rock cassette tapes blaring at a deafening volume as they zoomed down the highway in the 1967 Chevy Impala. They could have easily blown off 2 hours at some shabby roadside bar on the outskirts of a tiny town out in the middle of nowhere with Dean already completely snockerd in the first half an hour and throwing sexual innuendos at the waitress. 2 hours was supposed to be _nothing_.

Sam bit his lower lip pensively. A gnawing fit of anxiety thrived vigorously in the pit of his stomach. 2 more hours no longer meant _nothing_. Time was everything. Sam knew that 2 more hours of creeping slowly through the storm meant Dean was going to scream, and choke, and suffer another 2 hours in the bottomless pit of incessant torture. Every hour, every minute, every split second counted. What was just another 2 hours of driving for Sam, was an eternal, tormenting nightmare for Dean. It wasn't fair that Sam had the luxury to sit back and cruise down the streets with the radio blaring Bon Jovi's _Have a Nice Day_ while he knew that his older brother was going to have to wait another 2 hours before he had any hope for salvation. It wasn't right.

_It was supposed to be me._

Sam knew it was hopeless and completely useless to dwell on it. Dean was enduring an agonizing deterioration of his soul in hell, and Sam was ripping down the South Dakota back roads in a sparkling blue Toyota that still had that new car smell lingering in the leather. It was horribly unfair, but there was nothing Sam could do but press harder on the accelerator petal. It would always be unfair. It was always going to take more time. It would _always _be another hour. Another day. Another week. Another month.

Another God damn year.

So, Sam pressed _harder_.

Just as the van raced to brake the legal speed limit for the third time over, Sam suddenly snapped down out of his cloud of relentless, dreary contemplations as the van suddenly shifted towards the right edge of the road with a sharp jolt. Sam gripped the steering wheel firmly and furiously twisted the wheel until the tires shifted back into the center of the lane. Before Sam had time to think, a hammering thud pounded against the passenger door forcing the van to swerve out of Sam's control again and into the opposite lane. As soon as he regained his clasp on the wheel Sam's eyes shot about wildly out the windows of either side of the van searching frantically for what had struck the Toyota so hard as to knock it off course. Gazing out in the hazy abyss on the driver's seat window, Sam's eyes stretched wide as he continued to straighten up the van.

There was nothing there.

Nothing but the hovering mist of cloud stretched just beyond an arms length from the van. No punk ass kids playing hooky in the middle of the day throwing rocks at the cars as they whizzed by, no drunken' homeless guy with a bag of cans in one hand and a smashed beer bottle in other. There was nothing.

_What the fu-?_

Sam's eyes wandered back to the windshield window just in time for him to react with his foot slamming down on the brake petal and tires came to a screeching halt. The van skidded to a sloshing stop. Sam's eyes narrowed on the foggy mist ahead. At the corner or his eye, he caught a sketchy outline of a dark figure in the midst of the gray, smouldering cloud engulfing the road a few feet ahead. His eyes rested upon the outline of what appeared as large, black, wolf like creature, which leisurely pawed itself closer towards the front of the van, revealing it's true gruesome features as it emerged from the haze.

Twice, maybe three times the size of a Rottweiler, and with a sharp set of pearly, razor claws, the dog padded forward leaving a thin, red trickle of blood behind. It was a filthy web of dark, tangled hair. A powdery residue of ash and suffer lingered between the tuffs of matted knots of fur. Baring it's teeth into a vicious snarl, a few drops of blood dripped from the pointed, jagged fangs.

Sam's breaths became short and frantic when the realization dawned on him that this was no Rottweiler. It was a hellhound.

Keeping his eyes locked on the vicious, snarling hound, Sam slowly lifted his arm away from the steering wheel and stretched around to the backseat, careful not to make any quick movements. There, sitting tauntingly on top of his duffel bag, just beyond his fingertips, was his shotgun loaded with a handful of homemade rock salt bullets. Just as the end of his fingers brushed up against the tip of his shotgun, Sam's eyes widened with horror.

_Four...five...six... _He counted silently as six more, shadowy, slobbering, shapes emerged from the fog surrounding every angle of the van. More hellhounds.

Sam swallowed thickly. Whizzing thoughts of confusion shot through his mind as his heart raced in a sudden panic. _Why can I see them? Why are they here? What do they-?_

Sam's eyes squeezed tightly shut as his body was suddenly violently jerked to right. He felt the tight slam of the seatbelt against his chest against keeping him securely fastened into his seat. Sam's heart skipped a beat when he realized in horror that an enormous amount of pressure had suddenly slammed up against the left side of the van, tipping it onto it's side. Sam braced himself for the impact. He instinctively shielded his eyes with his sleeve and prepared for the next jolt. He groaned in pain as the van slammed against the ground with a solid, thunderous thud. Sam flinched when he heard the sudden shattering of the windows. Sharp, splitters of glass fell into his hair and pierced into the flesh of his cheeks, hands and chest. Sam could only call out helplessly as he remained pinned to his seat. Outside of the wreck, he heard the ruthless tearing and clawing of the hellhounds violently attacking the van.

Sam's thoughts had become a terrified blur. The only thing his mind could settle on was Dean.

If Sam died now, Dean would be lost forever. He'd be trapped in the blazing inferno forever. Even after Sam swore that he would find a way to save his brother, if he himself was ripped apart by the hellhounds, Dean would never have salvation. Sam would never see is brother again. Living or dead.

Before Sam even had the chance to breathe, his eyes shot towards the roof of the vehicle when another raging thump hit the top. Sam watched in a helpless gawk as the screeching and bending of metal began to slowly collapse inwards on him. The hellhounds pounded against the metal, driving it downwards until the shattered safety light brushed against his hair. Sam's frantic eyes desperate searched for another escape.

His gaze rested on the door handle beside him. Sam painful lifted his left arm from the twisted position beneath him and reached for the handle. His fingers slowly wrapped around the cool, silver handle as the thudding and clamouring on the roof intensified. Sam knew he'd be crushed if this didn't work.

His fist bunched into a firm grip of the handle and yanked it open and threw all of his weight against the door.

It didn't move. It was locked.

Before Sam could even reach for the release button the roof collapsed further down trapping his arm in a twisted spiral of metal. Sam let out a fierce moan as a shot of white pain sizzled up his left arm.

Sam's heart sunk. This was it. No one was coming for him. Not Bobby, not Ellen...not Dean. And even if they did, nobody had ever escaped the wraths of a hellhound.

_I'm sorry, Dean. _Sam whimpered silently at the though of his pathetic failure. _I'm sorry I couldn't save you._

Sam let out a loud holler as a sharp piece of coiled metal pierced into his leg. He was going to be crushed. Sam braced himself for a final impact of the collapsing roof, closed his watery eyes, held his breath and waited.

But there was nothing.

The roof remained still. The metal no longer screeched. The thumping and pounding had begun to fade away. Until there was _nothing_. No snarling or howling. No thundering or hammering. As if time itself had frozen, Sam was met with a deafening silence. Where had they gone? Had they took him for dead? Or given up? Maybe called off? But why?

Sam could only wait. Expecting the hellhounds to come roaring through the metal and tear his flesh off.

But again, there was nothing.

"Sam!"

Sam raised his eyes towards the broken twisted frame of the window in the door. He squinted, and the outline of a figure came into view. A human.

"Sammy! Are you in there!? Hang on!"

_Sammy? _Sam's heart suddenly flew into a wild frenzy. _Dean?_

Only one person in the world could call him that. His protector. His salvation. His big brother. But that was _impossible._

"Can you here me? Are you okay?"

Sam gave a loud groan in response.

"Just hold on, alright? I'm gonna get you out of there. Just stay with me, Sammy."

The figure bent down. Sam squinted past the debris to make out his features. He was met with a thin, pale and unfamiliar face, a bush of chestnut hair and a pair of chocolate brown eyes.

Sam mentally kicked himself for having such a foolish sense of hope. Of course it wasn't Dean. _No, _Sam felt a wave of disappointment drown his vain hope. _It will never be Dean._

**To be continued.**

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**So, what you think? Like? Don't like? Is it what you expected to happen? Please let me know! -Hugs- Reviews are love!**


	6. Chapter 6

"What did you say you're name was again?"

"Dea-"Dean blinked and cut himself off. "Uh..." What was his name again? Danny? Dillon? Dilbert? "Daniel." He nodded slowly and met his brother with a twitch of a smile. "Daniel Walton."

Dean watched as Sam scanned him from head to toe with that familiar curious look of unease on his face. When something just wasn't quite right.

_Come on, Sammy. _Dean felt a big bubble of hope inflate in his chest. _You out of all people should be able to see right past this getup._

Sam tilted his head slightly. The way he always did when he was thinking real hard. When he was suspicious. Dean couldn't help but stare straight back, unable to tear his gaze away from his baby brother. There he was. In the flesh. Safe and sound. Sammy. His pain in the ass little brother was sitting at Bobby's rickety, wooden table in the kitchen with a slice of pizza in one hand and a bottle of beer in the other, gazing at Dean as if he couldn't quite place him.

_Atta boy, Sammy. _Dean desperately attempted to suppress a beaming grin of pride. _Of course _Sam would see through him. Of course he'd figure it out. He was a smart littler bugger, Dean reminded himself with a reassuring sense of confidence. He was the College geek boy. Of course he would figure it out...

Sam shook his head and his attention left Dean's unfamiliar face and refocused itself on inhaling another slice of pizza. Dean's heart sunk. The vain bubble of hope felt as though a needle burst it into a thousand pieces. The answer seemed to satisfy his brother. Dean's shoulder's slumped in defeat and he slunk further down into his chair at the table. It was foolish to think Sam would see past it so quickly. Foolish to think that Sam would have the slightest inkling that it was possible for his brother to be back from the grave. Back from hell. Back as a demon. Sam wouldn't have imagined that in a million years...

"I guess I should thank you again." Sam sloshed back a hasty swig of beer from his bottle and returned his stare back to Dean. "For pulling me out of the van."

"Oh," Dean recalled quickly. Remembering the sudden rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins when his stomach lurched at the sight of the bright blue van tipped over on the side of the road, surrounded by a viscous pack of snarling hellhounds. He knew he had found Sam. He knew that this was exactly what Ruby had been talking about. Someone had sent those hellhounds out to finish him. Ruby was right. Sam had stepped in some deep crap.

He shuddered at the thought of the hellhounds. They were nothing but reminders of the twisted waves of excruciating pain he had experienced when they ripped him to shreds on the floor, just beyond Sam's reach.

He didn't dare begin to think of what would have happened to his poor baby brother if the hellhounds got their claws on him. He couldn't bear the thought of Sam going through all of that pain.

"How is it that you were able to find me again?" Sam inquired suddenly, breaking Dean out of his menacing memories.

Dean cleared his throat. "I was lookin' for you." That's _right _Dean was looking for him. Since stealing Ruby's car back at the gas station, Dean had raced down the highway to Bobby's scrap yard. He didn't have choice. Ruby wasn't going to let him anywhere near Sam until they had finished off whatever was hunting him. Dean couldn't wait that long. He needed to see his brother _now_. He needed to make sure Sam was safe.

And he was, now that Dean had still managed to save his ass from _another_ tight spot. Even as a demon, Dean hadn't lost his unconditional need to protect his baby brother from all the ruthless crap in the world. Including demonic hellion canines.

After literally tearing apart the hideous, mangled hunk of metal and pulling Sam out of the wreck, he drove them straight back to Bobby's, hardly taking his eyes off of his brother and onto the road the whole way.

At first he couldn't believe it. Sam. He was here. Right beside him. Talking to him. Eating pizza and drinking beer in front of him. It was astounding. Dean had merely _dreamed_ of meeting his brother face to face again for months. Sam was the only thing he had left to hold onto anymore. All he had left to keep him from going completely insane in the deepest, curliest, pits of hell. Sam. He was here. He was right _here_.

Dean didn't dare look away from Sam. He wanted to keep a stern gaze on him. Just to make sure he was real. Just to make sure Sam wouldn't suddenly just disappear and Dean would open his eyes and be back. Back in hell. Back where he should be.

Back where he wasn't completely sure he had really left forever.

"Looking...for me?" Sam raised a curious eyebrow.

"Yeah," Dean searched his brain hoping to come up with a lie that would pass. He hated lying to his brother. He hated being in this body. He hated having to pretend to be someone else. It took every fiber in his being to resist wrapping his arms around Sam and letting his mouth spill out the whole God damn truth. He wanted to be Sammy's big brother again. He wanted to be Dean Winchester. He didn't want to be Daniel _freakin' _Walton. "I..." Temptation was taunting him. A burning desire to tell his brother everything flared brilliantly in his chest. Just watching his brother swig back a beer and choke down a greasy slice of pizza was enough to make him want to sob. Sam still had a life. Sam still had a sense of normality. What did he have? He was a demon. He would never have anything normal again. He couldn't even _eat_ for Christ sake!

But somehow it seemed so close. Everything. It was like looking through a window. Looking at Sam. Looking at normality. Looking at life. But he could only look. Never touch. Like there was a fine layer of glass separating him from the rest of the world. Separating from every normal human sensation. Separating him from Sam.

And to think, he could have it all back with a few simple magic words...

_Sammy...please, it's me._

"I knew you're brother..." Dean choked out. "I've head of you and you're brother. Helluva team."

"You did?" Sam's gaze rested on Dean's face. Dean could practically feel the heat from intense stare. The topic of himself had suddenly grabbed Sam's attention.

"Yeah," Dean spewed out another lie like tar. "I knew Dean...in high school."

"High school?" Sam let out a scoff. "Dean hardly ever even bothered to show up for class let alone make pals."

"Well...yeah, but we had a lot in common. Uh...see...my Dad was a hunter too."

"You're a hunter?" Dean's mouth watered as he watched his brother sink his teeth into another bite of warm, squishy, melted cheese...

His stomach growled impatiently. His body needed food. No matter how hideously revolting it tasted.

Dean reached out hesitantly for a thin slice of pizza. "Yeah...you could say that." He answered, inspecting the gooey, greasy slice with another low rumble of his stomach and the irresistible aroma filling his nostrils. God, it smelled so damn good.

He raised the tip of the slice to his mouth. Slowly, he placed it inside his teeth and onto his tongue. He clamped his teeth down into the cheese and tore off the end. Almost instantly, he felt his mouth begin to burn as if it were on fire. The cheese became a hot, fiery liquid that seethed down his throat. The dough was a mad of crunchy ash, and grime. He gagged. Utterly repulsed by the vile blend of soot and grease. He hacked up the rest and deserted the table. Choking out the remains into the sink.

"You okay, there?" Dean could hear the apprehensive concern in Sam's voice.

"I'm just peachy." Dean wiped his mouth off on his sleeve and wandered back towards the table, wondering if he'd ever have the will to eat again.

Dean tore his attention away from the food when he heard a heavy pair of large, tromping boots slumping against the ground and stomp through house and stride into the kitchen.

"Jesus, they left that van for nothin' but blood and scrap." A gruff, hasty tone suddenly erupted. Dean looked up as he watched as the elder hunter trudged into the room and made a quick grab for another beer bottle and gulp it down in a hurried swig. Dean couldn't suppress a grin.

"Hey, Bobby-" Dean bit down on his tongue after he'd remembered who he was. Not Dean. Not his body. Bobby had never laid eyes on Daniel Walton in his entire life.

"Do I know you, son?" Bobby's eyes narrowed sharply. Scanning Dean upwards and downwards, seemingly trying to place his unfamiliar face.

"Uh...I think..." Dean stuttered to make up another story. "I think I met you...a long time ago, when I was just a kid." _Yeah, roll with it Dean...just keep smilin'. _"In Kentucky...uh you helped me and my Dad out with uh...uh...a werewolf situation."

"Huh," No way he'd buy it. "Can't say I remember."

"I was just a kid...it was a long time ago."

Bobby's eyebrows knitted together curiously. He pulled out a chair and slumped down. "Kentucky, eh?" Bobby scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "Sounds kinda familiar."

No way. They were both actually buying this bullshit. _No way!_

_Come on, Sammy..._Dean pleaded in desperate silence. _I can't do this...I want to be me again._

"Bobby, this is Daniel Walton." Sam introduced curtly with a half stuffed mouth full of pizza. "He found me on the side of the road." Sam turned to Dean after swallowing a lump of half chewed food down his throat. "He says he knew Dean in high school."

Bobby's eyebrows shot up. "High school? I don't remember Dean bein' the most popular kid in school."

"That's what I said." Sam eyed Dean with an inquisitive expression.

"Yeah, well...Dean and I had a few close buddies here and there..." Another freakin' lie. High school was certainly _not_ one of Dean's happier phases. "I remember you guys moving around a lot. You know with all the hunting...my-my family did that too." He was failing miserably at this.

"No offense," Sam lowered his gaze. "But I don't remember Dean mentioning you."

"Oh, well." _Come on, Dean. Think... _"He sure did mention you, Sammy."

Sam looked up with a sudden softer expression. "He did?"

"Oh...yeah..." Dean shrugged.

"Like what?" Sam leaned in. The mentioning of his older brother seemed to seize every fiber of attention Sam had in his body. His eyes stared with an eager intention on Dean's face. A yearning sensation to know more radiated brightly from his face like a light bulb.

_Ah, crap. _"Well...you know, the usual stuff. " Dean muttered hopelessly. But he knew the little things weren't going to satisfy Sam's sudden thirst for details. "He talked a lot about you."

"He did?" Sam repeated with an even softer, dewy sensitive puppy plead. "Like...?"

"Uh..." Dean cleared his throat. _Great_. He searched his mind for some sort of plausible story he could feed Sam without getting too socially awkward. "How you...how you always use to mess with his stuff. How you were always such a chubby, geeky kid who trailed around wherever he went..." Sure, the memories were blunt but Dean couldn't help but smile at the thought of that stout, dorky, preteen with the thick rimmed glasses fascinated by his model airplanes and ant farm collection. "You were always such a pain in the ass too him." Dean said with a laugh. "Especially when it came to huntin'."

Dean trailed off as he watched his brother's face fall in disappointment. _Okay_, Dean clued in, maybe it wasn't a good time to rant off a _What I hate about you _list.

Dean cleared is throat again. "But you know..." He began with a much lighter tone. "Dean was always real proud of you."

Sam's face brightened when he looked up. A hopeful grin lifted his face. "Proud?"

"Sure," Dean nodded. "Even with all the movin' and huntin' and stuff...you still managed to keep your grades higher than he ever could. He...he always went around showin' your report card to Bobby and Pastor Jim...and all his friends and teachers and stuff..."

Sam's grin grew wider. Dean couldn't help but smile a kind of sideways grin at the memory. He could still remember racing across town on his bike to show off Sam's report card to Bobby with a proud smirk on his face that said, _Look what MY baby brother can do!_

"I remember...he used to drop by to see you in the school choir practice when you were real young."

Sam's eyes widened slightly. "But Dean _hated_ dragging me to choir practice."

Dean shrugged. "Still, he's always been real proud of your for keeping yourself involved. And not gettin' swallowed up with the whole demon hunting business. You kept in touch with the world. He always sort of...envied you for that."

Dean bit down on his lower lip pensively. All this talk of their childhood...all those years ago...Dean just couldn't help but think about when it all ended. When Sammy left.

"Did he ever tell you..." Dean trailed off, debating weather or not to finish the thought.

"What?" Sam pressed for more.

"Did Dean ever tell you that he was the one who signed your application form for Stanford?"

Sam's mouth plummeted open. "But...no. Dad..." He muttered after recovering himself and blinking rapidly.

"Dad was supposed to have signed it...I thought he did...in the end..."

"Nope." Dean was beaming from ear to ear with a mischievous grin. "That was all your brother's doin'. He heard you and Dad goin' at it one night. He knew John would never sign it. And he knew that you were going to leave no matter what. So he figured you would be safer at Stanford than out on the streets somewhere."

Sam shook his head. His face riddled with disbelief. "But he...I thought he _hated_ me for going to Stanford."

Dean shook his head and assured sternly. "He never hated you, Sammy. He wanted you to have a good life, he really did. He just..." Dean looked up at his brother's bewildered stare. "He just didn't expect you to _completely _leave him behind."

_You shut me out, Sammy. You ditched me..._"He wanted to come with you." Dean muttered. "He thought...maybe...he and you could find a way to balance out school and hunting...together."

Dean looked away. Unable to meet his brother's deflated, crestfallen look.

Sam swallowed thickly. His eyes glittering a watery pool in the light as he drew in a shaky breath. "I wish... I had known." Was all he could muster in a stammering whisper. "I wish I could have thanked him...I wish I never cut him out of my life...I wish I could have saved him...I wish I could have told him...I wish..."

Sam wiped his eyes off his sleeve and let out a low sob. Bobby remained silent in the corner, arms crossed and feet perched up on an opposite chair. Eyes bouncing off between the brother's like ping pong balls.

Dean could only comfort Sam with a brief nod. "He knows, Sam."

Sam nodded back with a shaky, drawn out sigh. "Yeah...but he was always just so stubborn. I never really got the chance to..." Sam pressed his lips together and clamped down on his jaw without finishing the sentence to suppress another sob.

"To say goodbye?" Dean finished for him. Sam could only nod like a cheap, baseball bobblehead.

"Yeah...sorry about that." Dean scratched the back of his head. He never really thought that his brother might need closure. All he could think about was _not _thinking about his impending doom. Any sort of final goodbye made it feel so...hopeless.

"It's not goodbye, though." Sam finally mumbled through a sudden release of flowing tears that escaped his eyes. "I'm gonna get him back."

Dean said nothing to that. He met his brother's gaze, a sheer glare of raw determination taking over his expression. "I'm gonna bring him back."

Dean let a silence hang between the three hunters for a brief, lingering moment. He couldn't help but cringe when a pang of guilt hit his stomach. There they were, his brother, and the closest thing he'd ever have to an uncle, sitting at the table, drowning in their own puddle of grief. Over him. They were grieving over Dean. It pained him to keep the lid on the bottle. Strangle the cat in the bag. His family was suffering. And Dean had the power to make them better. He was the cause of all of their pain, and he could do nothing but sit by and watch.

"Hey, Daniel..." Sam muttered, after getting a grip on his voice and wiping his eyes off his sleeves again. "When you were out there...you didn't happen to see any..." Sam trailed off and met Dean with an uneasy look. "Dogs...out there did you?"

"You mean hellhounds?" Dean put bluntly.

Sam's mouth fell open. An expression of bewilderment and relief flooded over his face. "_You_ saw them?"

Dean wasn't going to lie. Not now. Sam needed to know that they were after him. That something or someone was on to him. He needed to warn Sam.

"That's what I came here to tell you about, Sammy." Sam opened his mouth, probably to warn Dean not to call him by his childhood name, but Dean went on as if he hadn't noticed. "I've...heard things." Dean wasn't going to get into the specifics. About his warning from Ruby. He still wasn't entirely sure that he could trust her. But since she did bring back from hell...he had a feeling she may be right about this one. "They're after you. Someone is sending them after you."

"Someone...like Lilith?" Sam inquired darkly.

"I'm not really sure." Dean shook his head. "But whatever it is, it's gunning for you. You need to keep you're head down for awhile. Go somewhere nice and relax for a bit. Stay off the radar."

"_Relax?"_ Sam spat out the word as if it had a vile taste.

"Well...yeah."

Sam suddenly stood up and swiftly strode over to the couch. He furiously began shoving his clothes, his shotgun, salt rocks, Dad's journal, and other items into his duffel bag in a mad rush.

"What are you doing, boy?" Bobby uncrossed his arms and stood up from the table.

"I've got to get outta here," Sam replied without looking up from his bag. "I'm going to Arizona."

"Arizona?" Bobby lifted an eyebrow. "Gezz, Sam no need to rush."

"No, that's not it." Sam rolled up a pair of jeans and shoved them in the bag. "There's this guy...a professor. The guy at USD told me that maybe he could help..."

"Help with what?"

"What do you think, Bobby?!" Sam suddenly flared as he grabbed a thick pile of books off he table and shoved them in the bag. "With Dean."

"Whoa, whoa, slow down there, kid." Bobby marched towards Sam's mad attempt to gather his belongs in a rush. "Did you not just hear the guy? There's a pack of vicious hellhounds on your trail! You gotta lay low! You can't just take off! This ain't the time to be worrying about some professor in Arizona-"

"I don't have time to just sit around with my thumbs up my as, Bobby!" Sam grabbed his laptop off the table and flung it like a Frisbee into the bag on the couch."Dean is waiting for me."

"Waiting for you? What the hell are you going on about, boy?"

"Dean is waiting for _me_, Bobby! He's waiting for me to save him!"

"You think taking off to see another dead beat professor is gonna help you do that? Come on, Sam. Have some sense. You think some snob ass, university professor is gonna have the answer in some dusty old textbook? You ain't gonna find any salvation for you're brother in no university-"

"Then what am I supposed to _do_!?" Sam whirled around to face Bobby straight in the eyes. "I won't just sit here!"

"You saw what those hellhounds did to the van! They nearly crushed you alive! What do you think they'll do next time?!"

"I don't care!"

"Sam!"

"_Ahem_..." Dean cleared his throat. Each of the hunters exchanged burning glances of anger before turning to him. "If you don't mind me saying...Sam." Dean began awkwardly. God this was weird. Sam was staring straight back at him as if were a total stranger. There was nothing but a fierce, fiery sense of determination glaring in his eyes. Dean hadn't realized it until now, but at that moment, it seemed as if Sam would do _anything_ and go _anywhere_ to bring him back...

_I just want to tell him...None of this would be happening if I could just..._Dean bit down on his tongue. Not trusting himself to just let the words slip. He remembered what Ruby had told him. Sam was in danger. And only Dean could help him. He was not going to be able to help Sam if he was locked back up in the fiery slammer. No matter how big and bright his brother's desperate puppy dog brown eyes bulged, no matter how much pain he was in, no matter how much he wanted to save his baby brother from all of that pain, Dean couldn't afford to put Sam's life in danger. He wouldn't let those hellhounds get their claws on him. He wouldn't let Sam suffer the same dark fate.

"Look," Dean lifted himself from the table and met Sam's icy, impatient glare with a tolerant understanding. "I've seen what these things can do. These hellhounds are real, nasty sonsabitches. They are not something to be taken lightly. What would you're brother think if you went charging off on some cocky, half wit mission across the country with the most vicious, bastard hellions sniffing on you're trail." Dean paused as Sam's eyes grew softer at the mention of his brother. "Now, I knew you're brother pretty well in high school. And I know that he would have done anything in the world to protect you from these things." Dean looked down. "And I know that there ain't a hope in hell that he would ever let you do something like this. He wouldn't let those gnarly bastards even lay a scratch on you. Especially since _they_ were the things that killed him."

Sam snapped to attention. A wave of anguish washed over his expression. "You knew...?" His once loud and boisterous tone in his bout his Bobby suddenly cracked into a shaky tremble.

"Yeah, I know about his half cocked demon deal." Dean shifted slightly. Uncomfortable at the mention of his own death. "Look, I'm sorry about him. I _really_ am. But you've gotta know that he would never let you to risk your safety on some wild goose chase for hopeless answers, when you got a pack of the devil's dogs sniffin' up your butt." Dean met his brother's now glossy gaze with an equal amount of determination. "And neither will I." He leaned down across the table. With a piercing blaze shooting from his eyes he muttered, "I pulled your ass from that mangled piece of metal rubbish out there, and I can shove you right back in there if it'll keep you safe."

Dean exchanged an equally raw indomitable stare with his brother. "So, what's it gonna be? You gonna cooperate and do as Bobby says, or do I have to start bending you into a pretzel?"

**To be continued.**

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**So, what do you think? You think Dean is doing a good job keeping himself a secret? Think Sam and Bobby are suspicious of him? Please leave a review and tell me your thoughts! They are LOVED!**


	7. Chapter 7

"A _poltergeist_?"

"Always hated that movie."

"You're kidding."

"Nope."

"I don't have time for-"

"It's either this, or I chain your ass up in the basement."

"At least I could get some _research _done in the basement..."

"Sam," Bobby's sharp tone told Sam that he was running thin on patience. "When was the last time you actually went on a God's honest, blood spatterin', limb rippin', hell screamin' hunt?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't know..." Sam's shoulders slumped as he let out a heavy sigh. "Before..." His face fell as his mind began to trail back the dark, winding trail of melancholic memories. Back to before. Before his whole world was turned upside down. Before he lost everything that he had ever really cared about. Before Dean died.

"Before Lilith." Sam responded in a hollow mutter.

Hunting. He hadn't actually thought about it in nearly two months. He never felt the need. It didn't seem as important anymore. He didn't pursue the story about the five suspicious deaths due to a supposable "bear mauling" in Phoenix. He ignored the two inch thick files collected and mailed to him by non other than a J. Harvelle about a supposable multiple haunting at an old widow's bed in breakfast two states over, with a little note clipped on the side that read in little black cursive writing, "_Sorry. This will keep you busy_." And he declined the invitation to join Ellen and her cousin to vanquish a _real _nasty poltergeist out in Sioux Falls. Sam didn't live for the job anymore. Hunting only seemed like a waste of time now. Precious time that he could be spending on research. And on his laptop. And at the library. Looking for the solution. Hunting just didn't _matter _to Sam anymore. He just didn't care about all evil hellions munching on dozens of innocent people for a midnight snack. He didn't care about the overly ambitious newly weds waking up in a cozy, honeymoon bed and breakfast suit and being greeted by a pack bloodthirsty vengeful sprits instead of a bowl of cornflakes. And he certainly couldn't give a rats ass about your everyday, garden variety motherfreakin', furniture sliding, plate smashing, bed rocking, temperamental, _poltergeist_. Hunting was no longer a priority, but an incessant irritation that popped up from time to time only to be flicked away with a simple shrug of the shoulders or a "_Return to sender"_ note and a fifty cent postage stamp. His only job, his only priority, his only care, was to bring salvation to his banished big brother and pull him out from the blazing inferno that he was eternally damned.

"Then I'd say you're gettin' outta practice." Sam flinched and threw up his hand when Bobby tossed him a little, brown, pocket pouch. "You'll need that."

Sam instinctively untied the pull strings on the pouch and a powdery mix of green and black herbs spilled out into the palm of his hand. Agrimony. A powerful defensive herb often used by his father in previous encounters to banish evil spirits and poltergeists. Sam glared at the elder hunter and immediately protested. "I'm not out of practice. I know how to hunt. I don't need to do this, Bobby."

"You need to lay low." The senior hunter grunted. "You and I both know that a couple days out in Sioux Falls with Ellen and her poltergeist problem would be good for you."

"How exactly does an exorcism count as laying low?"

"It's a _poltergeist_, Sam. That's pretty much as low as a hunter can get."

Sam slumped back against his chair with disgraceful defeat at the dining table and folded his arms over his chest with a sulky snare. This was ridiculous. He felt like a child. Bobby had been indomitablely determined to keep Sam's head down and his neck on a tight leash, forbidding him from getting anywhere near Arizona. Or anywhere else he could whiz off to meet with another crusty, half dead, university proff. He insisted that Sam go stay up in Sioux Falls with Ellen and her cousin for the week.

Sam was anything but keen on the idea and immediately objected. He didn't need a hunt. It wouldn't be good for him. It was a waste of time and nothing but a pest. Besides, a poltergeist could hardly be classified as a dignified kill.

"I dunno why you're putting up such a fuss." Bobby tossed Sam his gray, ragged duffel bag that landed on Sam's lap with a thud. "You're actin' like a spoiled kid that won't go to Disney World because the lines are too long."

Sam snorted. "A poltergeist can hardly be compared to a day at Disney Land."

"A job is a job."

"I don't _need_ a job, Bobby."

"Oh, yeah?" Bobby scoffed. "What do you think your brother would do to you if he found out you stopped huntin'?"

Sam's expression turned cold. His eyes shot up at Bobby as an icy glare.

Bobby only nodded back expectantly, seemingly reading Sam's chilled reaction. "Yeah, you know it and I know it. Dean would tare you a new one if he knew that you gave up hutin' for him. He'd haul your ass up to that house and lock you in with the poltergeist if it would turn you back onto huntin'."

Sam said nothing but did not remove his bitter glower. It pained him to admit it, but Bobby did have a point. He was right. Dean would kill him for not keeping up the fight...

"_Keep fighting, take care of my wheels. Sam, remember what Dad taught you, okay? And remember what I taught you."_

The last few sentimental words Dean had ever spoken bubbled up from the pit of Sam's dark memories. A pang of guilt lurched up into his stomach and pierced into his heart at the sorrowful recollection.

_Keep fighting... _Dean had wanted Sam to carry on his knowledge and experience. Put it to good use. Sam was supposed to carry out his brother's legacy. _Remember what I taught you._

But he never really had the heart to do the job alone.

_Alone. _Sam shuttered when the truth hit him in the gut like a brick. He would truly be on the hunt _alone._

"He'd want you to do it." Bobby's gruff encouragement seemed to soften Sam's frosty ferocity. "Dean would want you to take this job."

With another brief moment of hesitance, Sam nodded and lowered his gaze. Every fiber in his being was protesting. His heart ached when he imagined himself taking on the poltergeist all on his own. Especially knowing that if he managed to get himself in a tight situation that no one was going to come running back into the house to save his ass. If he screwed up, there was no back up team coming to the rescue. No Dean to go full throttle Rambo and waste the sucker with a jar of Angelica root and some crossroad dirt and kick some vengeful poltergeist ass. Sam would have to accept the fact that nobody would come. He would die, with no one to avenge him. He would truly be _alone._

"Knock, knock. Anybody in?" Sam shuttered when he resurfaced from his dark reality check when the front door to Bobby's cabin swung open with a squeaky creak and Daniel shuffled through the door with a bright, beaming grin stretched across a set of flawless pearly whites plastered on his ghostly, pale skin.

Bobby turned to greet Daniel with a wave of his hand motioning him inside. "Come on in, Daniel. We're just packing up the rest of Sam's stuff."

Sam opened his mouth to object but was interrupted by Daniel's giddy, over eager inquiry. "Sorry to be eavesdoppin' on you." His smirk grew wider when he met Sam's glum frown. "But did I just hear someone say something about a poltergeist?"

* * *

"Awesome!"

Sam trudged out of the cabin's front door and down the porch steps with his duffle bag slumped over his shoulder and an apathetic puppy pout weighing down his face.

"Could this day _get_ any better?" His heavy march treaded after Daniel, who nearly bounced across the yard with a skip in his step. Although he couldn't share Daniel's enthusiasm, Sam was grateful that he wouldn't be facing his first hunt without Dean _entirely_ alone. Daniel had been more than insistent to accompany Sam up to Sioux Falls for the week. "Do you have any idea how long it's been since I've been on a hunt?" Daniel's cheerful tone and bright white smile shone back at him.

"Yeah...it's been awhile for me too." Sam huffed out a long sigh. The pit of his stomach was swirling with butterflies. He hated the idea of doing this without his brother. He'd never been on a hunt without his family. He couldn't help but feel sort of awkward without them. Sure, at least Ellen would be there. A small sense of familiarity. And maybe this Daniel guy wasn't so bad to have around. But that didn't even come close to what he had with Dean. No one could ever replace the inimitable brotherly sync that Sam had always relied on.

"Whaddya mean?" Daniel suddenly slowed his pace and turned to meet Sam with a fallen face. "You...haven't been hunting?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "Not since...my brother-"

"Are you kidding me!?" Sam looked up and met Daniel's bewildered gawk. His smile had vanished and was replaced with a disapproving scowl. "You haven't hunted at all!? Dude, I should throttle you!"

Sam could only blink, suddenly taken aback by Daniel's disapproving outburst. "I've been busy..."

"Busy my foot!" Daniel barked. "I'm gonna-" He cut off and swallowed before sharply scowling. "You're brother would beat your ass if he knew that you gave up huntin'! Do you think he gave up his life so you could rot in the back of some dusty antique library? My God!"

Sam's eyes widened and he cringed at Daniel's harsh words. What was Daniel getting so peeved off about? As far as Sam knew, Daniel hadn't seen Dean in years. What did it matter to him what Sam did?

"Look I..." Sam wasn't sure how to respond. Daniel only glared at him, waiting for some sort of lame excuse. "I just didn't want to do it alone."

Daniel scoffed. "That's _lame_, Sammy."

"Don't call me-"

"You _know_ that Dean wanted you to keep fighting all those nasty hellions out there. He wanted you to kill as many evil sonsabitches as you possibly could!"

Sam shifted uncomfortably. How did _Daniel_ know so much about what Dean wanted? It struck him as odd, seeing Daniel become so infuriated at his lack of ambition. Sam had only met the guy a few hours ago. True, he did save his ass, just in the nick of time. But what difference did it make to him?

"I know." Was all Sam muttered under his breath. Stranger or no stranger, Daniel seemed to know what he was talking about. And he was right. Dean would have tanned his behind for not mutilating every evil bastard to walk the earth. That was what Dean lived for. He'd be _damn _pissed off if he found out Sam didn't keep up the family business.

"You listen here." Daniel's pallid, white expression grew dark. His thick, dark eyebrows narrowed into a sharp curve and a ripple of wrinkles appeared on his forehead. His eyes shot bullets of disapproval straight at Sam's stunned, stiff expression. "You and I are gonna drive up to Sioux Falls and we are tear every brick of the house apart until that we can find this sucker and mutilate every evil strand of it." He stuck out a pasty finger inches away from Sam's nose. "And you are gonna _enjoy_ it."

Sam's attempt to respond was lost. He didn't know how to react to Daniel's heated displeasure. He certainly didn't expect such a passionate upshot from a hunter he didn't even _know_. Yet, Daniel seemed to know every inch of his brother backwards and forwards. And Sam could not for the life of him ever recall Dean mentioning any high school peer, especially one with such a similar family history of hunting...

"Where's my car?"

Sam's gaze flashed back up at Daniel, who turned his head in every direction of the scrap yard, eyes scouring the lot with a sour twist in is expression.

"Right over there." Sam gestured towards the bleak, beige sleek little Mazda parked in the driveway in front of the cabin. The vehicle Daniel had pulled up in when he found Sam on the side of the road suffocating under the pressure of the ten ton Toyota.

"No! No, not that little ladybug!" Daniel dismissed as he strained to look over the stack of endless scrap piled up towards the sky scattered on the outskirts of Bobby's land. "I mean my car! I mean...Dean's car...I mean...your car..." Daniel trailed off as his continued to buzz around the property.

"You mean the Impala?" Sam finished bluntly.

"Yes! Oh, God, yes!" Daniel's face lit up again. "Oh, where is she? Oh, I can't _wait _to get my hands around her wheel and maker her purr..." Daniel's hand rubbed together in a giddy excitement and a mischievous grin stretched from ear to ear. "Where is my baby?"

Sam's eyebrows arched up curiously. "Well...I don't drive it anymore."

Sam winced back when Daniel suddenly spun around on his heel and faced Sam with a distraught look of horror. His naturally pale skin became a sickly vomit gray. His mouth plummeted open. Every hair on his body stood up on end and the thin purple veins in is face seemed tense in a fierce jolt bulging through his translucent complexion as if he'd been struck by lightning.

"You..._what_?" Daniel whispered in a low, numb, tone.

"I-I..." Sam stuttered. Unsure of how to react to Daniel's spasm of shock. "I don't drive it. It's not mine to drive."

A vibrant shade of scarlet began to creep across the top Daniel's hairline. His lips formed into beastly scowl. Sam instinctively took a step backwards, escaping an arms length away from Daniel's reach in case he decided to take a swing at him.

"Are you freakin' _psychotic_?" Daniel growled as if every word was a sentence on its own.

"What?" Sam whined innocently. "What's it to you?"

"You...I...Dean..." Daniel threw his hands up and held his face in a cup unable to find the right words to lash out any anger that was boiling over into a fit of hyperventilated heaves. "My _baby_..." Sam tipped his head cautiously as Daniel muttered.

"Are you...okay?" Sam took a tiptoe forward and jumped back again when Daniel threw down his hands and snarled. "You freakin' idiot!" He seethed, his entire face now bulging with profuse purple veins and engulfed in a rash of crimson. "Two things! Two very, simple, straightforward tasks. Keep fighting and take care of my wheels! Is that so hard, Sam?!"

Sam's breath was stolen from his lungs. His eyes were nearly bursting out of their sockets. He felt the color drain away from his face and his mouth sucked bone dry. Those words. Those _exact_ Sam words. As if Daniel had somehow reached into the darkest corners of Sam's mind and spilled them all right out in front of them again. How the _hell_ did he know so much? How the hell did he know what Dean had said that final night? How the hell did he know so _freakin' _much!?

Sam was too stunned to voice his shocking contemplations out loud. He could only blink rapidly at Daniel, who had now begun pacing nervously back and forth across the lawn mutter all sorts of inappropriate profanity under his breath. "How could you do this to me, Sammy?"

Sam nearly choked in a futile attempt to respond. His words still utterly drowned in a pool of his clouded ruminations.

"I mean...I get that it wasn't exactly your type of thing. But really, Sam, I didn't think you hated her that much." Daniel's voice had sunk into pathetic whimper as he paused his nervous pacing across the grass. "But did you really have to sell her? I mean, you could have kept her...somewhere. She meant a lot to me you know..."

"Wait." Sam finally regained control over his vocal cords and gave his head a shake to clear up some of his muddled disorientation. "Wait...sell it? Sell the Impala?"

Daniel's arms dropped heavily against his sides and he moaned up at Sam dejectedly. "Yeah. I mean...I hope you got your money's worth...but dude! You-"

"No, no." Sam shook his head again and waved Daniel down. "No, I didn't sell it." He clarified with a bitter laugh. "I would never sell it."

Daniel's head perked up. "You didn't?!" He exclaimed in a hopeful rush.

"No way." Sam couldn't suppress another chuckle at the very idea. He wouldn't have sold that car if he'd been offered a desk at the Whitehouse. Nothing would ever make him give up the Impala. It wasn't his to give up. It was Dean's. And that alone was more than enough to want to preserve it. And with it he persevered all of the memories. All of those long tedious hours on the road with Dean's skull crunching rock cassette tapes blaring at full volume as they sped down the eternal stretch of pavement on the trail for their next gig. He could keep them all this way. Keep them locked away, but never lost, so that he wouldn't have to face the heart wrenching loss of all of those hours. They were irreplaceable to Sam. He wouldn't even dream of selling his big brother's most prize possession.

"So?" Daniel prompted. "Where is it?"

* * *

"Oh hello, beautiful."

Daniel swept his hand across the sleek, glossy hood of the jet black 1967 Chevy Impala with an adoring smile. "Aren't you gorgeous sight for sore eyes..."

After pulling off the tight, white tarp from hiding the dark, lustrous beauty Sam recoiled back a good five feet away from the vehicle, hands shoved into the depths of his pockets and a chary gaze locked in a mesmerized link with the Impala.

"How could you keep her away like that?" Daniel scolded. "She's a sensitive creature, Sam. She needs love and affection. You can't just dumb her in the back of Bobby's lot like a dead Pontiac."

Sam huffed patiently. He never did understand the unconditional bond between Dean and his car. But what he did understand was how it held endless memories for him. This car symbolized everything their family ever had. It was passed down to Dean from their father. Sam supposed Dean's intent was to pass it along to him. But Sam could hardly even look at the car without a misty haze clouding his vision when he was hit in the gut with a sharp sting of pain. It reminded him too much of what he'd lost. And what was. And what he could never have again.

"What do you say we get this baby back out into the sunshine?" Daniel motioned with a sly raise of his eyebrows.

Sam remained planted in the ground. "I don't think so." Sam shook his head solemnly.

"Why not?" Daniel's face dropped. "Come on, Sammy. It'll be fun! When were done with this job maybe we can swing down to Mexico and grab a couple of hot Senorita's and get this baby really rockin'!"

Sam's expression darkened slightly. "Dude, who the hell _are _you?"

Daniel's cheerful look dampened. "What do you mean, Sammy?"

"Don't call me that!" Sam snapped. His tolerance was way beyond broken. It was bugging him to the very core. Daniel knew _so_ much about their family. About their background. About their father. About the car. About Dean. Things that even Sam didn't even have a clue about. Sam hardly even knew the guy and Daniel was acting as if they'd known each other since birth. It was so abnormal and unsettling Sam's fists clenched together.

"How do you know so much?" Sam took a few steps around the front of the car to meet Daniel with a reproachful stare down. "What does any of this matter to you? My hunting, the car, Dean, any of it! What difference does it make to _you_? Dean has spoken to you in years!"

Daniel's eyebrows knitted together. "Sam, I..." He licked his lips. His mouth opened to respond but he came up wordless. "Look...I..."

"How did you even know what Dean said!?" Sam spat harshly. "_Keep fighting and take care of my wheels! _Those were his exact words! How in the hell did you _know_ that!?"

Sam's blazing eyes searched Daniel's blank face, waiting for an answer.

Daniel could only let out a soft sigh. "Look, Sammy...Sam." Daniel corrected himself. "Your brother...Dean and I are a lot closer than you think."

"He never even mentioned you, Daniel. Not once. I was closer to him than anyone else in the world. He would have said something about you."

"Look, you're just gonna have to trust me on this one." Daniel assured. "Dean and I were pals. And we still are...to some extent..."

"Then why didn't he ever tell me about you?"

"He had his reasons, Sam."

Sam threw up his arms and turned his back on Daniel as he stalked away from the Impala. This was bullshit. All of it. And he didn't have time for it. The faster he got to Sioux Falls, the faster he could kill this poltergeist. Once the poltergeist was out of his hair, he could get back to what was really important. He didn't have time to screw around with a guy he hardly even knew.

"Wait, Sammy! Hey, wait up a minute!"

Daniel jogged behind and came around and placed a firm arm on Sam's shoulder that brought them both to a standstill. "Listen," Daniel's eyes locked with Sam's. "I'm not some sort of psychotic wacko here, okay? When we were in high school Dean told me a lot about his life. Things that he couldn't share with you. Once in awhile he...he phoned me up. Just to talk, you know? He talked to me about...you know, personal stuff."

"Like what?" Sam muttered flatly.

"Like...how he wanted to keep fighting. It was his dyin' wish that you would keep up the family tradition. Carry the torch another couple of years. You know what I'm saying? So that everything he taught you would still...it would still make a difference. Like...part of him was still alive...through you."

Sam didn't respond.

"I was just sorta...disappointed in you for him. I thought you would keep it up. I thought you'd do as he wanted. I was just sorta...shocked that you didn't."

Sam finally looked away. _Disappointed_. The word echoed off his mind. Dean would be _disappointed_. The thought left a bitter residue in his mind. He hadn't let Dean down...right? He was doing everything in his power to get him back. He had hoped that Dean would be proud that Sam was so determined to find a way out of it. Even after everything had all been said and done, Sam had always been unwaveringly determined to reunite them again. No matter what.

"I always intended to go back to hunting." Sam mumbled after a few brief seconds of silence. "After I brought him back."

"Yeah, well that might take a while." Daniel slammed down a hard weight of reality onto Sam's shoulders. "Look, I know your all gung ho about gettin' your brother back and believe me I'm all for that. But you gotta face the facts, dude. It might take awhile. So why don't you just park your ass in that car and we'll both take a little break from all this for a sec."

"I can't take a break, Daniel." Sam stressed. There was no break taking for Dean in hell, so why should Sam get one? "It wouldn't be fair to Dean."

Daniel said nothing. He knew that Sam's determination was unbudgable. There wasn't anything he could say to convince Sam to lay low for long.

"I'll take care of Ellen's poltergeist." Sam lowered his voice. "You and me both, since you're so eager for a hunt and since I might just be a little rusty on my own." His eyes narrowed sternly. "But after that I am getting right back to my back brother. I'm pullin' his ass outta that hell hole if it's the last thing I do. Got it?"

Daniel's lips curled up into an impish, satisfied smile. "That's all I'm askin', dude. One week and you'll be back to the books in no time. But in the mean time..." Daniel unwrapped his palm and dangled the Impala's silver, jingling keys that he had smoothly snaked from Sam's jacket pocket and waved them back and forth in front of Sam's face. "I'm driving."

**To be continued.**

* * *

**Thank you SO much to those of you who reviewed on the last chapter and answered my questions. Hugs for all!**

**So, what did you think of this one? It took me a long time to put it all together but I've got some good stuff for you guys to look forward too soon. Including a very angry Ruby. (After all, Dean did steal her car...)**

**Please leave a review!**


	8. Chapter 8

"Sam! Get down!"

Sam whirled around in a rapid frenzy at Daniel's command. His mouth fell open and his lungs gasped sharply when his eyes caught a blurry saucer shaped disk soaring through the air, aiming straight for his face. He swiftly ducked down out of its revolving path and it shattered against the wall. That was the sixth golden embroidered china plate that Sam had avoided a nasty collision with in the last ten minutes. For the last hour Sam had been battling cutlery, dishes, books, electrical cords, chairs, light bulbs, broomsticks, and anything else the poltergeist could hurl at his head in a desperate attempt to stop him from inserting the last pouch of_ poltergeist- be- gone _ingredients into the north corner of the dining room wall.

"Hurry up, Sammy!"

Sam launched himself off the ground and was swept back up into the chaotic commotion whirling around him. Perfume bottles, picture frames, toothbrushes, candles, Beanie Baby's, jewelery, tools, hairbrushes, and almost every piece of furniture, including china cabinets, dressers, and mattresses danced around the room in a spiraling frenzy. Magazines, Gameboys, Barbie Dolls, flew past his head as Sam dodged the hurtling inanimate objects that zoomed around the house. Ellen was right. This was one hell of a nasty poltergeist.

Across the other side of the room Daniel was going toe to toe with a hairdryer and a set of stake knives darting at him like target practice. He was bashing violently away at the knives and other hurtling sharp objects that zipped through the air with a baseball bat. "Get the damn sack in the freakin' wall!"

Right. The pouch. Sam dug down into his jacket pockets and wrapped his fingers around the small brown sack of graveyard dirt, angelic root and other blended mixes of herbs. Right. Get the pouch in the wall. Got it. Easy. He totally knew what he was doing...

"Now, Sam!"

Sam turned around and crouched down on the ground and faced the corner wall with the tiny brown pouch fumbling in his fingers. Get the pouch in the wall. It couldn't possibly get simpler than that. A poltergeist was an amateur kill. Nothing compared to what he'd faced before. So why couldn't he settle that dreadful nervous bubbling in the pit of his stomach?

"SAM!"

Sam flinched at the bark.

"Put the God damn bag in the God damn--_Ouff_!" Daniel grunted as his feet suddenly lifted off the ground and his body flung backwards. Sam's stomach did a back flip when he heard Daniel crashing through the window above his head. Sam pressed his arm against his face shielding himself from the shattering glass that sprinkled down into his bushy brown fuzz of hair. "Daniel!" Sam peered up above and met a giant gaping hole with jagged razor blades of pointing out from the edges of the shattered window. His eyes hung down on the lawn below. Daniel would have fell two stories down from the cozy little bungalow. Sam scanned the grass and the bushes below with out any sight of him. "Dan!"

"What!?"

Sam lifted his gaze from the yard following the irritated call. He squinted directly ahead into the lot next door. Standing tall and proud on the other side of the fence was a sturdy, looming Oak tree towering above the tip of the roof. Daniel's limbs were sprawled out awkwardly amongst its branches.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam called wearily.

Daniel lifted his head and nodded weakly. He stretched out a wobbly arm and gave Sam a thumbs up. "I'm super."

_Smash!_

Sam whipped around from the window. Another china dish whirled itself into the wall only inches away from Sam's position.

"Just finish it off already, Sam!" Daniel's distant instruction snapped Sam back down into the room and onto the task at hand.

_It's a freakin' poltergeist for Gods Sake! _Sam mentally kicked himself. This should have been as simple as swatting a fly. A poltergeist was noting but an trivial pest. Not something that was ever really taken seriously to most hunters. Especially not lifers. Sam had grown up with all this kind of crap for years. So why would two huntless months effect him so much? Why couldn't he pull his head out of his ass smoke the sucker?

Sam's eyes buzzed around the room past the dancing silverware and floating cookware for something, anything that could be used to smash through the drywall.

"Sammy, look out! Above you!"

Sam's gaze shot up towards the ceiling and met a flashy blade. An axe was hovering directly above his head.

Sam threw himself backwards against the wall as the blade rapidly sliced down through the air. With a thud it collided with the hardwood floor, just narrowly skimming the rubber toe of Sam's shoe. The blade did not rise again. It had become wedged in the wood. It twisted and turned as if trying to wedge itself out. After a brief moment to catch his breath Sam lunged out for the handle that waved around the air in a mad attempt to avoid his grasp. Sam clasped around a firm grip yanking the blade out of position and back into the air.

The handle jerked and swiveled through the air, fighting Sam's unyielding control. Sam took a step forward towards the wall. All he needed was one good swing.

He marched another step. The handle still forcefully resisting. Fighting the invisible force that seized for the blade Sam swung the axe back over his shoulders like a baseball bat and swiped it around and hammered it into the drywall. When he pulled it back out again the blue floral wallpaper had been marked with a deep scar just large enough for Sam to wedge the pouch through. He dropped the handle and furiously dug out the tiny brown sack of ingredients and shoved inside the gash. Bracing himself for the effect Sam threw his arm up against his face and shielded it from the bright blinding light that illuminated the house. A sudden piercing shriek suddenly erupted and rumbled the foundations as the light dimmed down and the entire invisibly suspended object swirling around the room came to a jolting standstill before collapsing simultaneously to the floor with a crash.

Sam cautiously peeked out from underneath his jacket arm and gazed miserably around at the chaotic environment. With a heave of his shoulders he let himself fall against the wall and slide down to the floor. Hopelessly awestruck at the unruly disaster surrounding him.

"Hey, Sammy! You okay in there?"

Sam leaned his head back against the wall and replied wearily. "I'm super."

* * *

"Dude, you suck worse than toilet water."

Sam leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes trying to stifle a yawn. This morning's kung fu knockout round with the poltergeist sucked his energy tanks dry. He had forgotten how irritatingly exhausting hunting could be.

"Really, man. Your skills are seriously lacking. You put the bag in the wall. How hard is that?"

Sam's eyes remained closed. He didn't stir as Daniel accelerated the on the petal and the Impala increased speed racing down the winding, twisty roads leading out of Sioux Falls.

"I am gonna whip your ass back to shape. All those years of training ain't going to waste because you're a lazy, son of a--_hey_!" Sam jerked up and his eye shot open when a sharp, stinging sensation knocked him out of ease. Daniel had given him a good rap on the back of the head. "Dude, are you listening? You need to stay sharp. What happens if those hellhounds come back? You can't even take a freakin' ghost!"

"Shut up," Sam finally muttered twisting around to find a comfortable position again. "At least I didn't get my kiester landed in a tree."

"Oh no, that was no accident, Sammy. That is called _strategy_."

"Yeah. Sure."

"No, no." Daniel shook his head. "See, I was testing you. I _purposely_ let that poltergeist catch me off guard. That way you could handle it on your own and sharpen up those rust buckets you call skills..._Hey_!"

Sam's eyes had only begun to close when Daniel gave him another thunk over the head. "Are you even listening to me?!"

"Yes!" Sam flared. "I get it, alright?! I screwed up. I know. Now would you just lay off?"

Daniel lifted an eyebrow. "Gezz, Sammy, mood swing much? Is it that time of the month again?"

Sam let out a long huffy sigh as he nestled himself down again and leaned his head against the back of the seat. Alright. So he'd admit it. He was rusty. And really out of practice. Bobby was right. Heck, maybe another hunt or two really would be good for him. But Sam still couldn't understand why he was so out of practice. It wasn't even a real hunt! Place the bag in the wall, simple, just as Daniel said. But somehow everything just seemed so much harder. So much more difficult. So..._different_.

_It's because I'm alone. _Sam winced when a sharp splinter of remorse prickled his heart. _It's because I don't have Dean..._

A swell of sorrow gurgled in the pit of Sam's stomach and he slunk down further into his seat. That was it. That's what was different. It really had nothing to do with his skills. Just no Dean. Hunting didn't even feel like hunting without him. It felt hard and wrong. Every step he took within that house shot an unbearable pain through his body. He was actually doing it. He couldn't believe that he was actually doing this without Dean. Doing this _alone_. Sam shuddered at the bitter reality.

"Where are my tunes?"

Sam tilted his head away from the window and met Daniel's fidgety fingers furiously toying with the stereo dial. He glared down with a revolting glower of disgust when the dial landed on a strident station with Celine Dion's _My heart will go on _erupting through the speakers.

"Dude, these stations suck almost as much as you." Daniel's hand pulled away from the dial in a repulsive defeat. "Where are my tunes?"

Sam shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

Daniel rolled his eyes and gave a scoff. "My--the tapes, man! Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica... the greatest hits of mullet rock. Right a bell to you, Sammy?"

"Don't call me Sammy." Sam instinctively responded for the millionth time this week.

"Dude, don't even tell me you don't got Dean's tapes. No hunting, no car, no tapes. I swear man, if I find out you screwed up anything else, I'll drag your ass down to hell myself."

Sam's eyes shifted towards the back seat. "Dean's tapes are in the back. No, I didn't sell them. I couldn't have got four tenths of a penny for the whole box anyway."

"Sweet!" Keeping one arm on the steering wheel, Daniel reached around to the back seat and grabbed the ragged cardboard poor excuse for a litter box overflowing with Dean's precious homemade cassettes tapes with head-smashing music so old that even cavemen could relate with.

"Alright!" Daniel plunked the box on top of Sam's lap and a whirl of dust flew up into his face. "Pick me out a good one. Something loud rockin' for the road."

Sam diffidently lowered his eyes down into the box brimming with tapes with thick black labels scrawled across the edges. Dean's tapes. Nearly as precious to him as the Impala. He lived for these rowdy big haired bands. Sam could recall countless hours of deafening screeching from Dean's boisterous voice hollering along lyrics and mimicking a bad impression of air guitar with his fingers and an offbeat drum solo with his hands against the steering wheel. Sam would admit that some of the songs were pretty good for the times, but extremely dated. Sam hated starting a six am drive with an Egg McMuffin and a cup of black with a side White Snake's chaotic crashing of symbols and guitar riffs and Dean's howling holler roaring in his ear bright and early in the morning. He hated it like poison.

But now, honestly, Sam would have given anything to hear Dean's booming voice screeching in his eats again. Not long ago Sam would have traded his right arm for a decent pair of ear plugs. But now Sam longed for the deafening combination of Blue Oyster cult and his brother's toneless, booming drone to vibrate through his body as the Impala almost seemed to tremor at the intensity of the music. Now, he longed for it like water.

Sam rummaged through the box with keen eyes. Kansas, AC/DC, Bad Company, Styx, the Ramons, it was all there. Even Bon Jovi was buried at the bottom.

"Here," Sam reached randomly into the box and tossed Daniel the first tape his fingers touched. Part of him was apprehensive about this. He wasn't entirely sure he could handle it. Listening to this music. Dean's music...without him. It felt like the hunt. It felt wrong and it brought up blistering lump in his throat and sharp pang in his heart. "Look, Dan...maybe we shouldn't listen to-"

"Whoo!" Too late. Daniel had already popped in the tape and rolled the dial up until the car was shaking and a series of guitar riffs blasted him back against his seat. "Perfect!"

2 seconds. 2 seconds and the first 2 notes was all Sam needed to instantly recognize the song. His body went ridged. He felt the color drain away from his face. His teeth locked into place and his fist clenched tightly against the edges of his seat.

Oh. My. God.

"_I never meant to be so bad to you!"_

No. No. No. No...

_"One thing I said that I would never do!"_

Please, God. Not this song...

_"__A look from you and I would fall from grace!__And it would wipe the smile right from my face!"_

Anything but this song. Anything...

_"Do you remember when we used to dance! And incidents arose from circumstance! One thing led to another, we were young!"_

Daniel was roaring along with the music now. Sam could hardly blink. His mouth was dry and his palms began to sweat. His heart pounded in his ears over the music. This couldn't be happening. Not this song. Not this song...

"_And we would scream together songs unsung__!" _Daniel nudged him the arm and motioned him to join in. "Come on, Sammy! Sing with me!"

Sam remained frozen stiff. Paralyzed with an overwhelming sense of alarm and disbelief he remained glued silently to his seat.

_Please...if there really is a God...please don't let it be this song...please..._

Daniel took his right arm off the steering and wheel and pointed directly at Sam and shouted along with the music. Sam braced himself...for the seven most feared words in the English language...

"_IT WAS THE HEAT OF THE MOMENT!"_

Oh, God. There it was.

_"Telling me what my heart meant!"_

Sam slunk down into his seat. Short breaths and heart racing. How could this happen? How could he have picked that song!?

"_The heat of the moment!"_

The fluids in his stomach started to twist and spin so violently Sam thought he might throw up. A hundred grossly images suddenly flashed through his mind. The car, the tacos, the electrical shortage, the bathtub, the gun, the dog...over one hundred nauseatingly lucid nightmares Sam had endured over and over and over...

This song. It stood for everything he hated. Everything he'd lost. Every single time he'd watched his brother die had been followed by this song. And now, somehow, it seemed suddenly disturbingly appropriate.

_"Showed in your eyes!"_

Sam couldn't stand it. He lunged forward and spun the dial backwards until the song ceased.

"Dude!" Daniel whined. "I was just getting started!"

Sam shot Daniel a dark glower. His voice lowered down into a deep, scratchy growl. "I. Am. _Not_. Listening. To. _That_. Song."

"Dude, you picked it-"

Sam shook his head slowly and his eyes narrowed firmly on Daniel's curious expression. "_Not. _Happening."

Daniel twisted his lips into an unsatisfied pout. "Since when do you not like my music?"

"I just _hate_ that song." Sam responded menacingly.

Daniel scoffed. "Nobody hates Asia-"

"I do."

Daniel let out a heavy sigh and returned his stare out the windshield and onto the road. Sam, at the corner of his eye watched Daniel tap his fingers lightly on the steering wheel and whisper the lyrics under his breath.

God. This was so familiar it was like a flashback. Or like groundhog day. Or maybe the trickster...

Just the way Daniel moved. Just the way he spoke. The way he idolized his sacred 70's music like it was holy. The way he stroked the top of the Impala like it was his feisty feline femme fatal. The way he coolly shrugged his leather jacket over his shoulders. Everything. Everything was so strikingly familiar...he was just so much like-

No. No. Daniel was not like Dean. He was different. They had been friends, Sam rationalized. Of course they would have the same interests. Of course they would have the same passions for the same music, the same cars, and the same fashion. Sam nodded. The attempt to convince himself that this was perfectly normal was starting to sink in. Daniel and Dean even had the same backgrounds. The same God damn initials for crying out loud! Of course it would be perfectly rational for them to become friends...

But Daniel was nothing like Dean...right?

Sam's eyes slowly drifted to left and widened cautiously as Daniel continued to tap on the head of the steering wheel in a light voice. "_Heeeeaat of the moment..."_

**To be continued.**

* * *

**Alright, so I know I promised an angry Ruby and she will come. Very soon. Also, with the new season premier of season 4 next week, I am bouncing off the walls with excitement! I had originally hoped to be finished this story the premier, but am pretty far from it. I will be continuing it because I'm having so much fun and because you all have been such wonderful readers! So as long as you guys are still willing to read it, I'm still willing to write it! :) And so that I can torture poor Sammy..."Heeeaaat of the moment..." **

**Anyway, please leave a review! Angry Ruby coming soon! As promised! Some of the questions you all have been wondering will be revealed in the next chapter. She will also be revealing something unexpected for Dean...**


	9. Chapter 9

**Okay! So I know it's been well over a month since I've update and I'm VERY SORRY! I've been so busy, but that's no excuse. I really hope you'll all continue to read! How does everyone like the fourth season? I LOVE it! Although...my story kind of goes off track now that it's started...**

**Okay, because it's been such a long time since I've updated, I've decided to give you guys a quick little refresher on what's going on in this fic...**

_**1. Picks up 2 months after Dean's venture into hell. Sam is a wreck.**_

_**2. Dean has come back as a demon. Ruby rescued him with a summoning spell. He possesses the body of a guy named Dan. Sam does not currently know that Dean is really Dan.**_

_**3. Lilith is after Sam with her hellhounds. Dean and Ruby must destroy her before she can kill them all first.**_

**So, I know you guys have been asking a lot of questions. This chapter was real long, so that's partly why it took me FOREVER to write it. Hopefully this chapter will answer a lot of your burning questions.**

**PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! I'd love to know what you all think!:)**

"We came, we saw, we kicked its ectoplasmic ass!"

Dean's cheeky chipmunk grin deflated as he burst heavily through Bobby's front cabin door announcing their triumphant victory. The tatty cabin walls creaked and moaned surrounding an unsettling stillness. No one was home.

"Aw, man. That entrance was totally wasted."

Sam lumbered in behind, heaving three grungy duffel bags and two shotguns.

"Guess Bobby skipped town the second he found out you were comin' back."

Sam threw all the gear on a ground with a clatter before collecting himself and sighing heavily. "He sent me a text. He's at the library...think fast." Sam sent his spare set of cabin keys darting through the air. With a swipe of his arm the keying looped effortlessly around the end of Dean's finger and jingled tauntingly in Sam's face. "_Boo-yah_!"

Sam paced forward towards the table and gathered up a few of the thick, tattered books sprawled amongst the table top and placed them firmly under his arm. "You can hang on to those. I'm going out for a bit."

"Alright!" Dean clapped his hands together with a devious grin turning up his lips. "That's just what I was thinkn', Sammy. You and me and a night on the town. That's exactly what you need. A few beers and a cheap lap dance oughtta bring back your zest."

Sam's eyebrows narrowed uncertainly and he twisted his face into an ugly stare down. "I'm _not _going to a bar, Dan." He spat as if the idea was repulsive. "I'm going to join Bobby at the library."

Dean let out a whine. "_Awwww Gaaaawwwwd_, Sammy! More books? Come on, man. It's Friday night!"

"I want to get a few more things checked out at the library before I leave tomorrow."

Dean's grin wilted into a frown. "Wait...leave?"

"Yeah." Sam answered simply. "I told you that as soon as we got back I was getting back to my research. I'm going to Arizona."

"Aww, geeezz. You've really got yourself totally convinced about this, don't you?"

"What are you-?"

"Come on, Sam!" Dean threw up arms. "You really think this guy in Arizona can say a few magic words and dance a little ho down and it'll bring back Dean? You're smarter than that, man."

"You said that all I had to do was kill that poltergeist. You and Bobby insisted that I get outta the library and back to the hunt. Well I did. Now it's time to get back to what's really important-"

"Yeah, but I didn't mean you could just jet down to Arizona to take some crap from Jed Clampett."

"Then what am I supposed to do!?" Sam exploded. He turned to face Dean with a fierce but helpless look weighing down his face. "Look...just..."

Oh no. There was that tone. That awkward sort of, "_Thank you very much for your help but get the hell out of my way now_," expression. Sammy was always real good at that. It had appreciation but a stubborn "_I'm not backing down so screw off," _tone. He was probably going to say how helpful Daniel had been, and how glad he was to have his assistance but that he needed to do this alone and he should probably get in his crap ass little Mazda and go straight back from whatever he randomly appeared from. But Dean could play Mr. Nice Guy too.

"Listen, Daniel...I'm sorry." Sam's voice softened. His back straightened and he narrowed his eyes sternly as if he had some long emotionally wishy washy spiel welling up. "You really have helped me out a lot over the last couple of days and I appreciate it. Really, I do."

_Here we go..._

"But I _have_ to do this. I have to...do whatever I can...even if it's pointless. Because it's all I can do."

Sam's face melted into an almost desperate expression. Dark, saggy bags outlined the underneath edges of his eyes from sleepless weeks of researching every book in every library across the state. His skin was a sickly pale, almost as translucent and ethereal as Daniel's. His lips arched down into a thin solemn frown. His dark, chestnut hair was a tangled web of unkempt knots and weaves sticking out at all angles.

Sam was _tired_. Exhausted even. Dean could see that now. Not just physically, but something in the way that voice cracked and the way that his weary, bloodshot eyes desperately pierced back told Dean that the stress was finally starting to get to him. Finally starting to tire his emotional and mental stability. Dean sometimes forgot what kind of weight Sam was carrying. The weight of loss. It often took small moments like this to remind him that Sam still didn't have his brother back. And for now, simple things, little things, things now in the back of his mind that would never even have a hope in hell, like pulling an all nighter behind rows of dusty, useless, ancient text books, and making the eight hour drive to Arizona to track down another Professor Dickhead at six in the morning, all these things, as pointless as they were, somehow made Sam feel just a little bit better. They made him feel like he was doing something. Like with every page he turned and every mile he drove, he was one step closer to saving his brother. Even if he really wasn't.

But that didn't matter. As long as it _felt_ like he was. Then maybe, he wouldn't have to feel so God damn guilty all the time.

Dean could see this now. All of it. Standing in front of him like this, Sam was no longer the innocent little boy getting beat of in the front of the school every day at 3 o'clock. He was a hopeless, desperate man looking for something that he would never find in any library or from any pompous stiff with a PHD in dick-headedness. He was never going to find salvation for his brother. And Dean, now being the demonic hellion that he was, was never going to be able to tell him that.

"Thanks, for everything Dan," Sam swallowed and shifted his gaze down to the floor. "But I really think it's time for you to g-"

"I'll wait here."

Sam looked up.

"You know," Dean cocked a pompous grin, "You might need me around, what with your skills-or lack there of- bein' on the fritz. Those hellhounds could come back and decide to use your pretty, mangled corpse as a human humpin' post."

Sam couldn't help but lose grip on his macho-man exterior and crack a grin.

"Oh, well now. What have we here? Is that a smile?" _No way, Sammy. No way you're gettin' rid of me that easy._ "PMS pills starting to kick in, Sammy?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Just..." He let out a sigh before meeting Dean's gaze with a nod. "Thanks, Dan."

"Hey, dude. Don't mention it. I'd be happy to sit around on my ass for the next couple hours drinkin' beer and scarffin' down pizza. I wonder if Bobby has paper view... I feel like watchin' _Die hard_."

Sam let out a brief chuckle as he turned around towards the door. "By the way," Sam said as he reached for the handle and stepped out onto the porch. "The Clampett's were originally from Arkansas, not Arizona."

Dean scoffed lightly. It was just sad when Sam could outsmart his TV trivia. "Bitch."

"Jer-"

Sam stopped in is tracks, hesitating before proceeding out the door and closing it softly behind him. He probably hadn't meant to respond so quickly. Probably just slipped out instinctively.

Dean grinned. Moments like that probably freaked the hell right out of Sammy. But they inflated a warm sense of familiarity in Dean.

Truth was, over the last few days, simple moments like these seemed like _heaven_. Just being back with Sam. Back with his baby brother. Not long ago, when he was roasting over a spit, this would have all seemed like a ridiculously lucid sky high trip on some seriously messed up demonic acid. Not even hovering on the brink of the possible. In hell, there was no Sam. No insignificant stand of even the slightest silver of hope that there ever would _be_ a Sam. There was nothing. And now, to be _here_. Standing in Bobby's empty kitchen, waving off his little brother with a teasing, playful grin, it was the closest thing to salvation Dean could ever ask for.

He still hadn't completely come to terms with it all. It didn't quite seem completely real yet. Maybe he was just fooling himself. Maybe all of this wasn't even real. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night, pulse racing, thick beads of sweat streaking down his face, sheets drenched, throat silently screaming, hands feverishly trembling. A sheer state of uncontrollable panic and unexplainable terror. Nightmares. Ridiculously lucid nightmares. Nauseatingly grotesque visions of inconceivable horrors haunted the darkest corners of his mind. Awakening to torture his soul with their maliciously brutal reminders of hell in slumber. Memories like these were nearly indescribable. He couldn't even begin to explain these terrors to Sam, even if he wanted to. Nothing he could ever say or do could illustrate the grim, almost artistic picture of anguish and pain he'd suffered through.

Although, he'd admit, even with all of the inconceivable methods of inventive demonic torture in hell, it was all probably nothing compared to what Sam had been doing to himself.

Dean shook his head quickly. _Okay, not going there._

Dean didn't even want to think about the emotional hell he'd put his brother through. Sam was strong. Much stronger than Dean. But it was stupid to lie to himself. Make himself believe that Sam was strong enough to get through all of this without more than a few weeks worth of grief. He hated seeing his brother like this. Sour and emotionally temperamental. So concentrated on one thing that all sense of clear judgement and caution thrown to the wind. Sam was so absorbed with his futile crusade to save the only real family member he'd rally ever known. Dean couldn't help but smirk at the irony. Sam was _so_ much like Dad, and he didn't even notice it.

The worst of all, was the pain that Dean knowingly continued to place on his baby brother. It was cruel to let him pine away for a brother that was already too late to be saved. A brother that was no longer suffocating underneath the thickest layers of the earth, but was standing right before his very eyes. And still, Dean could say nothing.

But now that he thought about it, he remembered what he was. No longer human. No longer Sam's big brother. Just another low level demon that slithered its way through the cracks of the earth and possessed the rotting corpse of some poor comatosed sap. He was no better than what he'd spent his life trying to destroy. He couldn't even imagine the look on Sam's face if he ever found out. A shocking mixture of horror and disgust. Sam would probably send him straight back to hell so fast he wouldn't even have time work the whole head spinning, vomit projectile show. His stomach wrenched at the very thought. Sam would _hate _him. Sam would _loath _him...

Dean quickly shook his head again. _Not gonna happen. _

He stared down waveringly at the half empty beer bottle he had opened on the counter . Tentatively swishing the dilute watery fluid back forth around in the bottle and chewing the inner side of his cheek. To drink, or not to drink? He let out a heavy side, debating whether or not he was brave enough to let the fiery, scorching liquid sizzle down his throat. Eating was a new kind of hell all on its own, surely drinking wouldn't be so bad...

_Dude, if there really is a God, please don't let this beer taste like crap, cause honestly, livin' life without it, might even be worse than hell..._

With a squeamish twist in his expression, Dean raised the neck of the bottle to his mouth and rested the rim on the tip of lips and tilted the back end of the bottle to the air. He squeezed his eyes tight shut, waiting for the liquid to swim down the stem of the bottle and fill is mouth with a vile poison.

"_Sonofabitch!"_

Dean winced as the bottle slipped from his fingers, plunged through the air and shattered against the floor. Before the alcohol even had the chance to touch end of his tongue, his body suddenly flew forward, a seemingly invisible force thrusting him against the refrigerator. With both arms twisted, crossed behind his back, Dean squirmed and struggled to get a look at his captor.

"You stupid, moronic, insignificant, lazy, scumbag!"

Dean stopped. With his cheek pressed firmly up against the cold refrigerator door he strained to get a glance at the corner of his eye. The tone was familiar, a females voice. A _pissed off, _females voice. Dean felt his stomach lurch when he caught a quick flash of a few strands of long, spaghetti straightened blond hair...

_Oh, crap._

"Wait, Ruby, hang on sec-_ouff_!"

Dean's right leg gave way when Ruby dug the back of her heel into his flesh with a good kick at his shin.

"You are a useless putrid excuse for life! I should have left you to shrivel up and rot on your meet hooks!"

"Listen, Ruby, please-"

"Shut up!" Ruby's tightly woven grip around his arms grew taut as she slammed him against the door again. The fridge rattled unsteadily as she kicked his heels and he began to slide down the front."I should have left you down there for all eternity! You should have suffered and screamed for a thousand years before ever seeing the light of the day again!"

Dean cringed and let out a gasp when he felt the toe of her heel collided with the instrument dangling between his legs. Oh yeah, she was definitely pissed. "Jesus..."

"You should have burned! Burned in hell forever! That's all you deserve you lousy, worthless, good for nothing, son of a mother freakin' bitch!"

She raised her elbow up and jammed in the back of the head so that his forehead thumped into the door.

"Alright! I give! You win!" He shouted over her uncontrollable stomping at his toes. "I'm an asshole, okay!? I get it!"

"Damn right you're an asshole!" She shoved him back up against the door and gave his other shin a quick nudge with her heel. Ruby wrapped her grip around his fingers and slowly bent each backwards one by one until she heard a faint snap. "You ditched me back there, you slimy dirt bag, son of a gun. You stole my car and raced right back into Lilith's fiery gunpoint."

"Yeah, well, what can I say?" Dean grunted and she twisted his pinkie finger until it spun around the opposite direction. "I have a real knack for drawing kinky female demons attention."

"You vile piece of dung!" Dean groaned as her heel pierced down on his boot and crushed the bones of his toes with grinding motion. "Do you think this is funny? Is this all this a game to you, huh? Just trying to see how many ways you can fall down into the pit? How many times Sam can watch your sorry ass get ripped apart? You think that's cute? You think that makes you some kinda hero? You think it's fun, don't you? Well, ya havin' fun now, Dean?" Ruby's hands slithered across his back coiled his arm in a loop until Dean let out a holler and the bone crunched.

Her lips drew up into a twisted smile and released her clasp over his arms. Dean quickly plummeted to the floor in front of the fridge gasping sharply. His left hand placed firmly over the splintered bone. "The hell is wrong with you?!"

"Me!?" She flared striding away from the fridge, but not before giving him a jab in the ribs with toe of her heel. "I'm not the one who took off for a week to play with a poltergeist!"

"Jesus, you broke my freakin' arm!"

"Don't be such a wuss." Ruby spat glaringly. "You. Are. A. _Demon_! Don't you get it!? It doesn't matter how sliced up your body gets, it's still a useable host."

Dean attempted with failure at getting to his feet while massaging his arm. "Yeah, well it still hurts like a bitch." Dean mumbled. "And speaking of a bitch..."

Ruby whirled around and jabbed Dean in the side of his ribs with her heel as he cringed back. "Dean, you really don't understand what you've done, do you?"

"Look, I'm sorry I took of without you, alright? But I needed to see Sam...I had to."

Ruby placed her hands on her hips. Her heels clicked against the ground as she paced back and forth along the kitchen counter. "You're a selfish prick, you know that right? Do you have any idea how much time you've wasted? Do you have any idea how much this is going to throw us off?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean grunted moving his massage down to his plum purple bruised fingers. "I spent a week with my brother after getting out of hell, what's the big deal?"

"A week, Dean! A full week! That only gives us three more weeks!" Ruby shot down her hostile glare towards Dean's expression, which curiously perked up.

"Three weeks?" Dean's eyebrows knitted together. "Look, I know we can hunt down Lilith, but it's gonna take a hell of a lot more than three weeks-"

Ruby's sharp laugh erupted through the kitchen. "Well, originally, we had a month to track her down. But now that you've wasted an entire week that only gives us three."

"Why only three weeks-"

"Come on, Dean. Even you're not that stupid." Ruby's tone hinted that she somehow took pleasure in his ignorance. "Did you really think that this little situation of yours, you possessing this guys pasty meat sack, was going to last forever?" A slick smile slithered across her face. "Did you really think that all of this was _permanent_?"

Dean's attention drew into an intense stare. He felt his heart flutter from its rhythmic beat and fluctuate into a speedy pattern. He didn't like the way she was smiling. He didn't like the way she put so much emphasis on _permanent_. He didn't understand what she was trying to say. Or maybe he did understand, at the very back of his mind, but just didn't have the will to say it out loud. "W-what?' He stuttered mindlessly.

Her smile grew wider with a twisted amusement. "You did, didn't you? You honestly thought that now that you were saved from the pit and that you and Sam would drive off into the sunset and live happily ever after? _Pfft_!" She stopped pacing and hoped up onto the kitchen counter and cackled down at him. "Oh, gezz, Dean. You can be a real sport sometimes."

Dean couldn't find the words to reply. His mind was too busy spinning at a hundred miles an hour trying to process the thought. _No. No. No. She's wrong. She's lying. She can't be right...I can't...I can't go back..._

"In exactly three weeks time," Ruby relaxed her harsh her tongue. "Regardless of whether or not we have killed Lilith, like I had originally planned for us to do, the summoning spell I preformed expires."

Dean's pulse began to race. Quick breaths escaped his lips and a perspiring sweat began to appear across the creases of his forehead. This couldn't be happening. She couldn't be right. He couldn't go back. Not now. Not after being back with Sam. "What...what are you saying, Ruby-"

"Dean," Her thin red lips curled back over her pearly white teeth, exposing a bitter grin of cruel amusement. "In three weeks, your time is up...again." She tilted her head, as if to show some sort of meaningless pity. "You're going back to hell."

_No._

_No._

_No._

_No, no, no, no, NO!_

"No.." Dean whimpered lightly. This wasn't happening. She was lying. She couldn't be right. It was just cruel...so cruel to drag out of the pits of hell and then dump him back in without warning. She was taunting him. Swinging the rope of salvation just beyond his reach. How could she do that...how could she just expect him to follow her around like a lapdog and then expect to fade back quietly into the shadows?

Ruby simply shrugged. "Those are the breaks, kid. The spell only lasts a month before it runs out. Then, it's back to the slammer for you. Did you really think that I would just hand you a free front-of-the-line ticket out of the pit? Life ain't that sweet, sugar."

Dean lungs nearly gasped for air as the twisted knot of reality bundled up in the pit of his stomach. He couldn't breath. Nearly _forgot_ to breath. As if a thousand pounds of bricks suddenly slammed down on his chest, Dean's lungs gasped sharply. This couldn't be true. He couldn't go back there. Not again...

Dean blinked rapidly as the outline of Ruby's slender figure began to blur and soften into a dim blend of color. He pressed his hand against his temple. The room was spinning. Everything was swirling whirling around him, Dean could hardly get a grasp on Ruby's words.

"-isn't much time, so we better move quickly before-"

Her words were just faded mumbles in the background. Dean's mind was mentally breaking down. The very thought of going back there...back to hell, it was enough for him to want to just get up and run. Run as fast and as far away from all of this as possible. Maybe he could run. Just like Sam. Get away from the hellhounds, buy himself some time. Maybe Sam could visit that guy in Arizona...maybe he really did have a lead...maybe...

Dean rolled over onto his side. His stomach lurched and a massive lump wriggled up through his throat. He chocked and spattered as a slush of brown spew poured out of his mouth and splashed onto the kitchen floor and on the tip of Ruby's heels.

_I. __**Can't**__. Go. Back. __**There**__._

"Hey! Hey, hey, hey! Man, you're gettin' your gunk all over my new shoes!"

Ruby jabbed him in the side. Dean hacked helplessly on the floor before she crouched down to the floor and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Three words, Dean." She spat insensitivity. "Suck. It_. Up_!"

Dean couldn't stifle a whimper. His pride was particle suffocating. He hated himself for cracking up so helplessly, especially in front of the bitch queen of the underworld. But he couldn't help it. Didn't even really try. The thought of going back...it was mind boggling. Even wicked, to send him back there without warning.

"Why..." Dean whined through another hack of muddy-brown sludge. "Why did you bring me back...if it wasn't permanent? How could you be so God damn-"

"For Sam."

Dean gazed up from the puddle of sickly, murky vomit and met Ruby's coal black eyes with a gawk.

"I brought you back for Sam. I brought you back, because I cannot fight Lilith on my own. And if you don't help me, she will kill your brother within the next three weeks. I didn't bring you back so you could smell the roses one last time. I brought you back, because your brother needs you."

Dean let her words sink in, and he suddenly felt his heart swell up and grab at the last few strands of hope. Sam. Of course. He'd do anything for his baby brother. Almost all of his despair and helplessness melted away when he thought about his brother. Going back to hell would be like a trip to Disney World compared to facing the grief of losing Sam.

"You're brother needs you more than anything now, Dean. Even if he doesn't know it. Even if he never will. You have to save him. Because your the only one with enough human in you to do it. You're the only one that still cares enough about Sam, to never let go of him."

Dean swallowed the bulging lump of vomit collecting in his throat again. The bitch the was right. This wasn't the time to have a mental breakdown. Sam needed him _now_. He didn't have time to deal with all that emotional crap. "What do I have to do?"

Ruby's lips curled into a satisfied smirk as she let go of the grip on his shoulders and stood up. "Pack your bags. We're going to hunt down Lilith. We leave tomorrow afternoon. I've gotta get some stuff together before we leave." Ruby uncrossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. "And make sure you say goodbye to Sam. Because after we leave, you'll probably never see him again."

Dean forced his torso off the ground and he sprawled out casually across the kitchen floor leaning against the refrigerator door. Her words shot through Dean's heart like bullets.

_You'll probably never see him again._

He would live for three more weeks, hunt down and kill Lilith, save Sam's life again, and go back to hell, and Sam wouldn't even know it. He'd never know it. He'd still be scouring out every college library across the country and never even have a clue what Dean had done for him. But he couldn't really complain. At least he would have the chance to really say goodbye to his little brother. But honestly, the whole deal sucked.

"I'm gonna save his ass from the most powerful demonic creature to ever walk the planet, and he'll never even know it." Dean mused with a raspy clench in his throat. "That sucks."

She rolled her eyes. "Sure does. But that is the least of your problems, kid. Forget what Sam does or doesn't know. At least if you do this, he'll still live to grieve for another month longer." Ruby's heels clicked resentfully as she swivelled around and headed for the door.

"Ruby!" Dean called back after her and she met him with an impatient glare. Maybe the fact that Sam would never know that his big brother did in fact, live to see the light of day again for one more month, rested steadily on her shoulders, but it sure as hell bugged the crap out of Dean. It was...unsettling. He hated the fact that Sam would pine away helplessly for the rest of his life, still trying to find a way to save his sorry soul from the pit. He didn't want his baby brother to spend the rest of his life wallowing in his own pit of grief. Dean wanted him to know that he was okay. Well, maybe okay wasn't the right word. But then, maybe just knowing that even in hell, his older brother was still swinging hard, maybe that would bring Sam a good night or two of shuteye. Maybe bring him some kind of...closure. Then maybe...just maybe, Sam could find a way to move on.

"You think maybe if..." Dean started uncertainly. During the very limited time he'd been back with his brother, Dean couldn't help but notice that there had been...moments between them. Brotherly moments that Dean could tell just freaked the holy hell out of Sam. Simple moments like before. Before he'd been sucked down to the center of the earth. Like the good old days. Like in the car when Dean had blasted up his Asia tapes, he smirked when Sam gazed over at him, mouth hanging open, eyes practically bulging out of his head. Or like just now, when he bid farewell to his brother with some of their childish, sibling banter. Sam was a smart kid. There was no way he'd been able to brush all of these simple moments off with a shrug of his shoulders. Dean knew that at the back of Sam's mind, a suspicion about Dan was growing. But he just couldn't put his finger on it.

"You think maybe...if...Sam... figured it out..."

Ruby tilted her head. Eyes sharply scanning his expression sceptically. "Figured what out?"

"Me. If he figured out that it's me in here...you think maybe...that would...I don't know, be like a loophole in those damn rules of yours? I mean...if I didn't technically tell him it's me, but he figured it out on his own...would I...be able to tell him everything after that?"

Ruby's lips pursed and she rolled her eyes thoughtfully. Her heel tapped rhythmically against the hardwood and Dean could tell she mulling the idea around in her head. "Technically...if you did not directly admit to him that it was you...and he put the pieces together all on his own...then..." Ruby cast her glare down on his over eager expression. "...yes." She answered finally. "Yes, you could tell him everything after that."

Dean closed his eyes as a wave of relief massaged his weary soul. Just to tell Sam. Just to give him some kind of reassurance, would make his trip down south a lot easier thing to face. He didn't need to tell Sam that he was a full blown demon. Yeah, he'd definitely leave that part out. But to tell him that he was still alive and kicking...well, maybe not alive, but still existing. Still feeling. Maybe that might ease Sam's guilt. Maybe he would move on after all...

"But don't get your hopes up." Ruby's tone attempted to squish his newfound sense of enlightenment. "I've seen this spell preformed on many others before. Their loved ones...never figure it out. No one is that smart, Dean. No one has able to put the puzzle pieces together. And even if Sam could, there's no time. We're leaving. It's too late." Ruby spun around on her heel again and twisted the handle of the door. "I'll be back tomorrow. Be ready. And don't do anything stupid in the mean time. And by the way..." She gestured to the shattered beer bottle on the floor. "Don't drink any of that old man's beer. He's spoiled it with Holy water. You think regular food tastes like crap? You don't even know what real fire is until you've had a dose of that vile stuff down your throat."

She slammed door behind her. Dean rested his head against the refrigerator door and let out a weary sigh as he listened to her boots thumb down the porch steps and crunch against the gravel. And just like that, she was gone. And he was alone again.

_I'm going back to hell..._Dean swallowed bitterly. A dreadful sensation welling up in his stomach again. _But I'll be damned if I'll let Lilith make Sam follow._

**To be continued.**

**So, what do you think? One hell of an angry Ruby, as promised. I know it's a lot to process in one chapter. I've thrown a lot at you. Think Sammy will be smart enough to see the signs in time? PLEASE LEAVE A REVIEW! I'd really love to know who's still reading this and whether or not I should continue. Oh...and by the way...some of you have been wondering whether or not it is possible that Dean would get his body back instead of possessing Dan's. And I'll tell you...that it's not entirely impossible. Ruby still has a few tricks up her sleeve to come soon...**


	10. Chapter 10

**Okay, okay, I know it's been a very long time since I've updated. But I've been so captivated with this season it's hard to write anything different.**

**In case you need a reminder of what's going on, here are a few notes...**

_**1. Picks up 2 months after Dean's venture into hell. Sam is a wreck.**_

_**2. Dean has come back as a demon. Ruby rescued him with a summoning spell. He possesses the body of a guy named Dan. Sam does not currently know that Dean is really Dan.**_

_**3. Lilith is after Sam with her hellhounds. Dean and Ruby must destroy her before she can kill them all first.**_

_**4. Dean has just found out from Ruby that after he saves Sam, he will have to go back to hell.**_

**I know it's been a long time, and I know it veers off from the storyline in season 4, but I hope you'll still enjoy. :)**

**Follow me on Twitter and you'll get updates on not only fanfics but on a few other writing projects I'm working on for the real wold :) See my profile page for the link :)**

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"_Psst! _Bobby!"

Sam paced back and forth down the dusty, narrow passages. His head bobbed up and down as he stretched up on his tip toes to gaze over the tall rows of dusty bookshelves.

"_Pssssst! _Bobby, where are you?" He called out in a harsh whisper, eyes peering between the shelves for any sign of a tatty blue baseball hat.

According to his text, Bobby should have met up with Sam at the library 45 minutes ago. His voicemail urgently instructed Sam to, "_Haul your ass over to the library ASAP. Oh...and make sure you ain't followed. Ditch Dan. Don't let 'em know that I need ya_."

So Sam left Dan hung up back at Bobby's cabin and hurried across town without delay. Whatever he needed, it was obviously important. But it left Sam wondering why Bobby would urge him over so suddenly at nearly 9 o'clock at night and then leave him hanging high and dry. And why was he so determined to leave Dan out of it? If Sam had learned anything this week, it was that Dan was probably the closest thing he had to friend right now.

"_Psssssst! _Bobby! Where the hell are-!?"

"_Shhhhhh!" _The primly seated library at the corner desk in the main lobby snubbed his inconsiderate tone with a wave of her bony finger. Sam gave a quick nod and polite smile, then turned back to the book shelves and rolled his eyes. "_Bobby!_"

"Sam?"

Sam swivelled around. Between two sets of encyclopaedias, propped up in a slant against the shelf, was the outline of Bobby's frayed hunting cap sticking out from gap in the middle.

"Bobby?" Sam trotted around to the other side of the shelf and met the elder hunter with an anxious expression. "Man, where have you been? I've been waiting around here for nearly-"

"Sorry, Sam." Bobby grumbled. "'Was outside. Makin' sure you weren't followed."

Sam's brow drew minutely. "Bobby, what's going on? Why did you-?"

"How'd the hunt go?"

Sam blinked. There was an nervous tension in Bobby's voice, although he showed no other signs of particular anxiety. "What? What hun-?"

"The poltergeist." Bobby clued him hastily. "How'd it go? You alright? You get out in one piece?"

Sam recoiled uneasily, blinking dazedly as Bobby's eyes scanned him from head to toe. "I'm--I'm fine, Bobby. What's the matter? Why are you asking-?"

"And Dan, is he...uh, alright?" Bobby's gazed narrowed warily.

"Yeah, he's great, Bobby."

"So...everything went okay?"

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah, we're fine. Look, Bobby, why don't we sit down and-"

"Sam, you didn't... happen to notice anything...uh..." Bobby trailed off. His eyes shifted up towards Sam's curious expression.

"Notice what, Bobby?"

"Uh..." The hunter cleared his throat and hushed. "You didn't happen to notice anything...odd, did you?"

Sam scoffed. "You mean _besides _the fact that I was attacked by the night- of- the -living beanie babies and nearly smoked out by flying tea saucers? No, Bobby. Nothing _odd _about that-"

"I ain't talkin' about the poltergeist, boy." Bobby voice tumbled down into a growl. "I'm talkin' about _Dan_."

Sam stiffened as a dark overcast suddenly clouded Bobby's expression. What was he going on about? What suddenly peeked Bobby's interest in Dan? Sam shifted his weight uneasily as Bobby's eyes seemed to pierce through his mind. "Odd...uh..." Sam shook his head. "Well...how do you mean by odd?"

"I mean like strange, Sam. Like noticeably out of the ordinary kind of odd. If you catch my drift..."

Bobby gestured towards the elderly, female librarian, who's nose had uninvitedly propped itself over the Weekly Fashion Insider Magazine she was pretending to read.

"Uh...w-well..." Sam stuttered doubtfully. "I....I don't..." What the hell was Bobby getting at? What was he trying to prove? "Do you mean like...he's got a weird craving for chilly cheese fries at 3 o'clock in the morning, kind of out of the ordinary odd? Or more like...stark raving foaming at the mouth lunatic, kind of out of the ordinary odd?"

Bobby's growl grew lower as he grunted through clenched teeth. "I'm talkin' like, _demonic_ out of the ordinary odd, you idgit."

"_Demonic_!?"

"_Shh!_" Bobby waved him down, peering guardedly over his shoulder at the female librarian, whose lips had curved into a disapproving scowl. "Keep your voice down, boy."

"What the hell do you mean, _demonic_?" Sam spat darkly.

"I mean," Bobby began with a softer murmur. "While you were out playin' the exorcist, I've been doing some diggin'." Bobby gestured towards a sheltered little desk isolated in the back corner with a pile of thick and dusty books stacked towards the ceiling. He yanked out a chair and motioned for Sam. "Sit."

Sam sunk down reluctantly into his chair.

"I been doin' some research about this guy."

"About Daniel?" Sam cocked an eyebrow.

"See, that's the thing." Bobby lowered his gaze cagily. "I ain't even sure that's his real name."

Sam narrowed his inquisitive gaze as Bobby went on. "See, last week, when he first arrived, he talked to me 'bout some werewolf deal that went down in Kentucky. Said it happened a real long time ago when he was just a kid. Said that I helped out his Daddy. Who was a hunter."

Sam's face radiated an amused sense of scepticism. "Yeah? So?"

"Sam, I've only hunted a handful of werewolves in my time. They don't spring up on the radar as easy as you might think. And I can remember almost every hunt I ever been on. And I couldn't for the life of me recall any clue about a werewolf in Kentucky or helpin' out a kid and his Dad, except your family of course."

Sam nodded with a roll of his eyes. "So you couldn't remember. Big deal, Bobby. It was over 20 years ago-"

"You ain't listening to me, boy." Bobby grumbled fiercely. "I called up almost every hunter in the book, Sam. Ain't none of them ever heard an inkling about any hunter by the name Walton. Not one."

Sam shrugged. "Maybe he's trying to keep under the radar-"

"Don't you get it, kid!?" Bobby's eyes fervently glanced between the bookshelves at the librarian. She gave him a disapproving shake of her head. "You ain't usein' your head, Sam."

Sam rested his knee against the table and tipped back swaying on the back two legs of his chair. "Bobby, I don't get what-"

"I been through every single journal I own, I couldn't find squat about a werewolf bein' anywhere near Kentkuy in the last 50 years! There ain't nothing about no Daniel or no Walton guy either."

"You kept a journal?" Sam inquired, missing the point entirely.

"Of _course_ I kept a journal, Sam." Bobby fumed through gritted teeth. "I kept tons of journals-"

"Maybe you forgot to write him down-"

"Oh, for the love of all that is holy!" Bobby slapped his arms against his thighs. "Why are you so hell-bent on tryin' to prove me wrong?"

"Why are you so hell-bent on trying to prove Daniel isn't who he says he is? He's just a guy, Bobby. Just another hunter."

"Sam...come on, boy. Use your head."

"I don't understand what you're getting at! What are you trying to say!?"

"I'm sayin' I think he's a demon, Sam! I think he's possessed!"

"_Shhhhhhhhh!"_

Neither hunter dared to glance away from each other's equally fierce unwavering stare to face the pedantic librarian.

"Why possess _him_?" Sam muttered above a whisper. "If he's not a hunter or no one particularly of importance then why possess _him_?"

"Because," Bobby revealed a coffee stained manila file from behind the limitless pile of journals and books piled toward the ceiling and slid it across the table towards Sam. "He's a coma patient."

Sam tilted his head and flipped open the file. "A coma patient?" He repeated blankly.

"Don'tcha' see, Sam? It's the perfect host!"

Sam's eyes scanned the hospital's records aloud. "Daniel Walton. Sex: Male Age: 29. Minor league baseball team; gradate of USD, Masters Degree in Psychology, coach for the local little league team, volunteer firefighter...Wow. This guy's a freakin' Saint."

"_Was _a freakin' Saint, Sam. He's been in a coma for the last 2 years at _The Avera McKennan General Hospital_, Sioux Falls, South Dakota."

"So...he...woke up?" Sam shrugged.

Bobby's face was turning a sharp shade of scarlet. If he hadn't felt so bad for the kid he probably would have struck Sam clear across the face. Sucking a deep cleansing breath, Bobby gritted though clenched teeth. "He. Did. Not. Wake**. Up**! What's the matter with you, boy!?"

Sam opened his mouth to defend himself when Bobby raged on. "You're actin' like you've got your head stuck in a toilet, what with all this shit you're givin' me! The hospital has zero records of him checking out! One day his body was immobile, the next...POOF! GONE! Doesn't that even sound somewhat suspicious to you, boy!?"

Sam said nothing and looked away. Maybe he didn't want it to be suspicious. Maybe he _wanted_ Daniel to be the guy he said he was. Maybe Sam wanted a little normality back in his life. Maybe he didn't want to believe that okay, yes...he does sound a little messed up, but not possessed! He couldn't be! After all this time, after trying to face the world alone without Dean, maybe Sam _enjoyed_ have Dan around. After all, he was just so much like...

"Prove it." Sam grunted, head low and eyes glaring.

"What?" Bobby scoffed.

"I want solid, hard core proof that there is even the slightest chance that Dan is possessed before we do anything rash."

Bobby stared back hard at him. Sam could practically see him mulling it over in his brain. "You want proof," Bobby let out a long impatient sigh, "Then let's go get some."

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**So what do you think? Please leave a review! I'm actually almost done this story. I estimate 3-5 more chapters and then I'll be finished. But I promise I won't leave this story so long ever again.**

**_Spoiler: In the next chapter Sam is going to confront Dan about his "Dean like" behaviour. Sam will find out that Dan is a demon, but will he find out he is also Dean?_**

**Please leave a review!**

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